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Chapter Text

Everything about this place is grating. The too-bright sunlight, the delicate little flowers, the fluffy and sweet cream sheep lounging on the stairs, and especially the cookie sitting with them, gently stroking the head of a lamb curled in his lap.

Shadow Milk Cookie sneers, face hidden only due to his presence behind the cookie, in the shade of the gazebo that's barely worth anything. It's too bright for his tastes, or any reasonable cookies taste frankly, but that's the nature of these things. The edges of his sight are fuzzy, adding to the absolute headache the setting brings him, and the air shimmers as if the gentle breeze carried glitter with it. Disgusting.

Still, he's an actor worth his weight in gold (and then some), so he quickly plasters on a grin and makes his approach, floating up and over the familiarly detestable cookie on the stairs, settling himself upside-down in the air. Eye-to-closed-eye, Shadow Milk can see the utter tranquility of the cookie before himself. Terribly dull, and a mood killer in general. He half considers starting his work here just then, but as gratifying as that would be– ah. Too short-lived, he's afraid. It's easier to undo a spell you're aware of, so Shadow Milk has to be, ugh, subtle. Luckily, while not his preference, “subtle” was where his skills excelled.

“Shadow Milk,” Pure Vanilla says, smile never faltering, eyes opening to meet his gaze despite the fact Shadow Milk knew that all he'd be seeing is a blur of color. Not that it'd be a bad-looking blur of color, but he didn't see any reason why Pure Vanilla practiced such useless habits. He's better off using his staff all the time– oh, wait! He can't, because his staff doesn't have an eye anymore. Maybe if he didn't steal HIS SOUL JAM– “It's nice to see you, even if unexpected.”

Shadow Milk doesn't let his ire show, smile unwavering despite the rage the sight of Pure Vanilla brought to boil. “Of course it's nice to see me! My presence is a gift.” He nods once, resolutely, to which Pure Vanilla's smile only softens. It's sickening, so Shadow Milk closes his eyes to keep from having to see it. “But really, did you have to be in this horrible garden? It's so bright it's giving me a headache.”

Pure Vanilla chuckles softly, a sound that makes Shadow Milk swallow bile, and when Shadow Milk looks back his way that terrible expression seems to have only gotten cheerier. “Not every place needs to be dark all the time. It's better for you to get sunlight, anyhow.” Pure Vanilla tilts his head just slightly, long hair falling into his face before he reaches up to pull it out of the way. The light seems to bend around him, making him shine bright as any star, and it reflects off his hair nearly-white. His barely-useful eyes seem to twinkle with amusement, far from the dull things they were back in the spire. Back when he was perfect.

Their faces are mere inches apart. Proximity used to make him uncomfortable, but that was before he'd convinced himself that he somehow “understood” Shadow Milk, a lie he seemed keen to keep up even here. Even remembering that ghastly scene makes Shadow Milk feel his stomach curdle, and so to relieve the sickness Pure Vanilla wrought he moves again. He sits in the air, legs crossed as he faces Pure Vanilla, eyes kept level with his foe. Now Vanilla was alone in the gazebo, as Shadow Milk floated above the flowerbeds, a stone path cutting through to divide them. An apt visual metaphor, though not a particularly meaningful one.

“Sunlight keeps a cookie happy and healthy.” Pure Vanilla finishes saying, rolling right along without notice or care.

“Sure, sure.” Shadow Milk rolls his eyes, waving dismissively. “I'm perfectly happy and healthy without being blinded every day, thank you.”

“Are you happy?” Pure Vanilla asks, his smile finally falling into a miniscule frown. It'd be a better sight, if Shadow Milk hadn't understood the expression for what it was; pity. Even worse than the cookie’s nearly-unshakable gentle cheer. Shadow Milk doesn't hide his scowl in time; his glare is harsher than need be and he knows his reaction was incredibly visible by the way Pure Vanilla winced. “Sorry, I know I shouldn't pry, but…”

Shadow Milk wipes the expression off his face quickly enough, smoothing it over with a mocking grin as he leans back in the air. “Ah, of course I'm happy!” Shadow Milk knows this is what Vanilla wants to hear, but it's probably not believable judging by the other's expression. Well. He couldn't have expected honesty, now could he? “What in the world do I have to be upset about?” A great many things, which Pure Vanilla knows and can list, and then some he shouldn't be privy to. But regardless, Shadow Milk doesn't care enough to really be unhappy.

“Um. Right…” Pure Vanilla says, voice soft, before sighing. As if he was disappointed. What did he have to be disappointed about? Silence hangs in the air for about three seconds before Pure Vanilla speaks again, at a normal volume this time. “Not that I don't appreciate a visit, but why are you here? I was hoping you'd rethink your decision…?”

Shadow Milk can't help it; he laughs. Raucous, violent laughter, for at least a good thirty seconds. Pure Vanilla slumps in his spot, but his expression reads more… tired? More, well, the best way to say it… done with Shadow Milk’s shit. “Not a chance, Nilly.” Shadow Milk replies, breathless, clutching his stomach, feeling that delightful little ache of muscle a real good laugh gets you. That's probably the best laughing fit he's had in a while.

Shadow Milk quickly sobers up and grins, wide and sharp and predatory, forgetting about the distance he'd put between them and why to dart closer. His intent is to frighten Pure Vanilla with the sudden movement, feign an attack, but Vanilla doesn't even flinch. He simply blinks, surprised, before smiling once more that gentle, almost fond, little smile. Once again, Shadow Milk feels sick at the sight of it. But he doesn't distance himself again; intimidation works better when within arms reach, and significantly more than that when even less.

“I'm here, to take back what is rightfully mine.” His voice is filled with brightly fake cheer, only faltering at the end of the sentence with a little growl on the edge of his words, his eyes narrowing as he glared at his soon-to-be-ex counterpart. He doesn't spare a glance at the half a soul jam Pure Vanilla wore, despite being so close. He could, of course, reach out and touch it. That, however, is both unnecessary and pointless to do. “Same as before, same now. Except, now I don't think I'll be as gracious.”

“You are?” Pure Vanilla asks, voice tinged with… something. Amusement? It wouldn't be far from the usual. It's grating regardless. He never takes him seriously anymore. “Well, what's stopping you?”

The touch burns, and it takes a lot more willpower than it should not to tear his hand away as Pure Vanilla takes it and pulls. Their hands rest against Pure Vanilla's soul jam together, Shadow Milk's sandwiched between the object he desires and the agonizing burn. The soul jam hums pleasantly, familiar, welcome and receptive to him. The light of truth is, at once, a vile and desirable thing. The urge to take it, seize it, and corrupt it wholly and resolutely as he regains his rightful ownership, makes his heart pound.

It’s a useless practice, and secondary to his goal here and now. He lets Pure Vanilla's touch linger, for as long as the repugnant fool wishes, and when his hands drop Shadow Milk pulls back again. The fool was soooo sure of himself, so proud and cheery. That smile was too bright for any cookie to bear, as he jumps once again to the wrong conclusion.

“Are you sure that's what you're here for?” Pure Vanilla teases, eyes blinking slowly as he looks up at the beast. The lamb in his lap hasn't reacted since the very beginning, a reflection of its master, content even in the presence of something here to devour them. For not the first time Shadow Milk considers bringing a cake wolf here sometime, maybe then he'd get the desired reaction, but no. That might be a step too bold. “You have been reconsidering, haven't you?”

“Didn't I just say I wasn't going to be gracious?” Shadow Milk growls, grabbing the collar of Pure Vanilla's cloak and pulling him closer, close enough that he couldn't look away even if he wanted to. “You are going to be a crumbled, jam-stained heap of waste when I am done with you.”

“If you really had wanted to do that, why let me know you're here at all?” Pure Vanilla asks, placid regard unwavering. It's infuriating, it's insulting, it's– exactly the result Shadow Milk has had the past two time's he's done this.

Shadow Milk groans, dropping Pure Vanilla unceremoniously with another roll of his eyes. “You make this no fun.” He makes this pointless. What will it take to get a reaction out of this cookie?!

“I am having a lovely time, actually.” Pure Vanilla says, rising from the stairs and causing his lazing flock to rise with him. After dusting off his cloak he meets Shadow Milk's eyes again, hair fluttering in the barely-present breeze as he tilts his head. “Would you like to walk with me? Or float, rather. You never really land for long.”

“I'm not here to spend time with you!” Shadow Milk huffs, but as Pure Vanilla walks away he trails after.

Another useless night. But who knows, a tour of the castle gardens might have utility one day.

Chapter Text

Shadow Milk opens his eyes with a snap, sitting up from his bed at the same moment. He covers up the unnatural movement with an exaggerated yawn and stretch, completing the illusion of having slept for an audience of precisely no one. He's alone in the room, or “his” room– rather, every room in the spire is his, but specifically this room is his to sleep in.

Sleep is an unnecessary vice, one he used to never engage in for reasons he hasn't put to words. Thus, this room is a spectacularly new addition to the spire, and empty of anything but the necessities: a bed, with an inordinate number of pillows and a blanket so plush that once you sank in it would be impossible to escape. It floats alone in the center of the room, conjured with the promise of filling the space with even more nonsensical pieces to complete the illusion, but Shadow Milk has been much too busy to do so just yet.

Busy with what, you may ask? Well, put simply, plotting.

He would never go back to the other Beasts a failure, after all, he is the best among them and they ought to know such. That leads him to here and now, in the facsimile of a bedroom, a week into his latest scheme.

A knock on the door breaks his reverie, makes him roll out of bed and drop through the air enough to meet his minions a touch more formally. Barely a blink and a wave of his hand compels the door swing open for them, his staff falling out of the bed to land in his hand just as Candy Apple and Black Sapphire make their entrances.

Candy Apple, like an excited puppy, nearly barrels into him as she yammers on about something or other. Some rumors spread, or some lies wormed into lessons taught, the specifics hardly matter. She jumps and waves her arms excitedly, reaching for him with grubby hands he's careful to keep far out of reach of. Black Sapphire approaches more calmly, hands crossed behind his back and clasping his own staff, watching Candy Apple with a tired, if not slightly amused, expression.

“–that's wonderful, Candy Apple Cookie, just keep doing that.” Shadow Milk interrupts, waving dismissively and earning a high squeal from his most fervent follower at the “high praise” he'd afforded her. He has no need for them to do any grunt work currently, but spreading deceit and causing a bit of chaos as they went wasn't a task he'd put off for after the day was won and all that. It's better to keep the minions busy, anyhow.

“Of course, my sweet Shadow Milk!” She responds dutifully. “What about you?! Have your nightmares been keeping that boring crumb of a cookie busy?”

“Why, of course! That silly Nilly is hardly sleeping a wink, with all the terror I've given him!” Shadow Milk places his hands on his hips and preens at the awe and adoration his minion levels at him, and he spares a glance at Black Sapphire to see him also bearing an expression much like it. Ah, to have the respect and command the fear of cookies so devoted to his deceit– there is nothing more soothing to the burn of another failed expedition than that. “This time, I set his entire kingdom ablaze and sent cake wolves to hunt down the fleeing citizenry! That sad sap was weeping even before the first cookie crumbled.”

“Such a bleeding heart, of course our Master has such an easy time crushing it.” Black Sapphire chuckles, sending a flicker of ire through Shadow Milk's mind. But, they don't know that Pure Vanilla hasn't had a single night of poor sleep since this plot began. It’s a statement that, in their minds, serves only to praise their Master, with no insincerity behind it. It’s insulting by circumstance, not intent. The illusion he'd crafted would be shattered if he'd acted on said circumstance, so Shadow Milk only laughs with enthusiasm.

“But of course! I am the Master of Deceit, after all, and Dreams are the easiest lies to tell!” His good mood, feigned as it was, allows him patience enough to look down at his minions with an expression a little more than boredom today, and the will to simply dismiss them instead of chasing them out of a room they knew they were strictly prohibited from entering. He’ll have to remind them of that later. “Haven't you got some rumors to spread, some lies to tell? I thought we needed to lower a certain kingdom's morale~!” He sing-songs the last word, his grin splitting across his face wide and hard to ignore.

His minions, devoted and ever so loyal, quickly dismiss themselves and scramble to do just that, shutting the door behind themselves with a slam that echoes in the empty room terribly loud. As the last echo dies he's left in a silence thick and heavy, filled with the weight of his disappointment.

Shadow Milk groans, rising back to his bed and flopping back onto it with narrowed eyes and an irritated slant to his mouth. “This would be so much easier if he had never met that stupid Moonlight Cookie.” He grumbles, rubbing his forehead and then his eyes as if to wipe away the frustration simmering inside.

See, spells were easier to undo if you knew they were happening. The many magics that allowed dream-walking or dream-sharing to occur were no exception; a sufficiently familiar cookie with enough willpower could very well eject the caster from their dreams and then bar the path back in. Pure Vanilla should have no reason to be familiar, if it weren’t for an association with a cookie that should have nothing to do with the situation at hand. Except, Shadow Milk had had the brilliant idea to exhaust his foe before their next confrontation. If unable to sleep well because of continuous night terrors, eventually he may decide to forgo sleep entirely, and as mortal as the fool was it would be his downfall. Simple plan, with an even simpler execution for someone as powerful and skilled as Shadow Milk!

Except, again, the more familiar a cookie was, the easier to identify the exact spells Shadow Milk was using. Pure Vanilla was familiar with many of those such spells, familiar with inter-dream travel in general, and the spells he wasn't familiar with weren't so different in function and rules. This means that, for all his desires to, Shadow Milk just couldn't outright manipulate the dreams as he had originally set out to do. It has to be subtle, it has to be gradual, and that means he has to work slow. Figure out what bothers Pure Vanilla, and follow that trail until he wakes with terror. Which! Is remarkably harder than it should be.

“Stupid fool.” He grumbles some more, grabbing a pillow to dramatically squish his face into it, biting the soft fibers as he thought about how happy Pure Vanilla had been in that dream, showing Shadow Milk his gardens as his little flock of sheep trailed at their heels. Shining, splendid Pure Vanilla, the sun in-dream working to make him even brighter, shining like the first star in a dark cloudy sky– absolutely sickening.

Shadow Milk bites down harder, growling to himself as he turns the dream over in his mind, picking the details and the moments he should have done something, the opportunities he'd had, but noooo. He had to be careful. Otherwise, he'd be thrown out and blocked out, and he'd need to find some other way to weaken Pure Vanilla before their next encounter. “I'll crumble him.” He adds, muffled through the pillow but about as vicious as he can manage. The urge to scream and shout and rant and rave is large, but without anyone to bear witness he lacks the motivation to use so much energy.

It's all a pathetic showing, really. He knows he can do much better, much worse, he knows that he could have that pathetic little crumb at his feet whimpering for mercy in seconds, he knows that nightmares are the least he can manage, and with exceptional ease. It should not be so difficult to break this cookie a second time.

He takes a breath in, releases his hold on the plush victim of his rage, tosses the ruined and torn pillow off the side of the bed to be dealt with later. “This, is nothing.” He says, voice quivering in his frustration only briefly before he takes in another breath, plasters a wide and ferocious grin on his face. “I have all the time in the world! One night makes no difference.” One night more within a week of failed attempts, maybe, is disheartening– but inconsequential to a cookie who has lived thousands of years beyond that. “Tonight, I won't let that cookie get a moment's peace!”

There's nothing else to be done really. The world is infinitely more boring without guests to entertain, and his minions are scurrying around like good little drones busy spreading the good word of deceit– the spire, empty save for one, didn't have a single other soul to appreciate the delights Shadow Milk had carefully crafted. His shows to be seen by no one, his games cut down to one player– but, nothing was new in that regard.

He's restricted to his spire, now, given a second confrontation too soon would be inconvenient. Not because of any lasting consequences to Pure Vanilla's little tricks, mind you, but because the little heroes needed time to become complacent with their victory– it's a strategic move, one that will benefit him, even if it is unnecessary. It leaves him without his usual methods of entertainment, ensuring he must give his minions all the fun tasks while he sits behind to plot and connive alone, but it's time better spent than just returning to the other Beasts and hearing their relentless criticisms.

Still. It makes the ensuing hours waiting for Pure Vanilla to sleep again near agonizing.

Chapter Text

For once, it's not glaringly bright when Shadow Milk arrives in the dream. For the past week it's been only the mundanities of the Vanilla Kingdom to greet him, whether it be the castle halls (too bright), the council room (much too bright), or the garden (disgustingly and painfully bright). Pure Vanilla hadn't dreamed of much else, and Shadow Milk had begun to suspect that the dull old fool wouldn't have anything more to dream of. Boring souls have boring dreams, and all.

But no, not tonight it seems. Tonight, Pure Vanilla dreams up an unfamiliar snowy peninsula, a large dark-chocolate wall barely visible in the distance, sugar snow slowly drifting down and catching the warm orange firelight. A small wall of stone keeps the wind and snow from threatening the flames, and a thick patchwork tent keeps the heat from escaping. Shadow Milk is stood outside, exposed to the elements, but the cookie he's here for sits on a plush blanket, poking the embers with a twig too wet to catch flame. He's at the least dressed in winter gear appropriate for the circumstance, which is more that could be said for Shadow Milk, but it's still odd not to see him in his standard robes. Odder still to see his staff out of reach, propped up against the opposite “wall” for lack of a better word, light competing against the fire for brightest thing in the space. Shadow Milk elects to ignore it; all it did was hurt his eyes, anyhow, and it was no threat outside of Pure Vanilla’s hands.

Shadow Milk takes another glance around outside, comparing detail to memory, because this must be a place Pure Vanilla was familiar with. It felt too natural to be imagination alone. Snow, dark-chocolate construction, and if he glances a few yards behind him he'd see the edge of a cliff looking over a churning dark sea. Ah.

This must be the Dark Cacao kingdom, or at least the land where you'd find it. It made logical sense– dark, miserable, cold, with the crashing waves of the licorice sea rhythmic and cacophonous. Shadow Milk had never been, but he knows it well enough. He's seen it through different eyes, after all.

“It's cold out, you should come inside.” Pure Vanilla calls to him, voice soft against the crashing of the waves, nearly inaudible at all. Shadow Milk turns his head to watch him, but the cookie doesn't even open his eyes, keeps stoking the flames. Shadow Milk feels his lips twitch, momentarily, into a frown.

He's not one to be ordered around, and the last thing he'd ever do is listen to an order from Pure Vanilla Cookie. However, it is cold, and the fire is tempting enough.

“I have hot chocolate, too.” Pure Vanilla offers, as if that'd sweeten the deal. Shadow Milk wants nothing from him, and wouldn't take anything from him even if he needed to eat. Which, he doesn't. Still, Shadow Milk lets Pure Vanilla believe he's won this exchange. He steps inside, and after a moment fiddles with the ties keeping the entrance flap open, letting the tent close to trap the heat even more. There's some space, in the fabric of the ceiling, where the smoke may be let out, so unfortunately there would be no asphyxiation happening here. What a bore.

“Why camp at a place like this? It's terrible out there!” Shadow Milk says, rubbing his arms and gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering. Already the snow that had landed on his head and shoulders was melting, leaving him unpleasantly chilled. He sits close to the fire– and, unfortunately, that meant close to Pure Vanilla. The tent only had so much space, and to not sit on slushy snow-mud he had to sit on the only other surface there. “Cold, wet, miserable. Not even old Misty would be caught in a shabby tent like this in this kinda weather! It's not like it isn't just a half-mile walk away from your friend, anyways.”

Pure Vanilla sets his twig aside, turning instead to a knapsack strewn behind him, half soaked with muddy slush. He digs around for a moment before taking out a thermos, drawing it close with a small sigh for a few seconds before passing it along to Shadow Milk. Despite himself, he takes it. What can he say? It's warm, he's cold– he doesn't have to drink it. Just holding the thing was enough.

“It's not supposed to be particularly stormy tonight, so the conditions are better than usual.” Pure Vanilla says, reaching back into his knapsack for something else now. “And I've decided to try some new things, even if they're a little… inadvisable.” He chuckles, before drawing out a small package, bundled in brown paper. “There's so much I haven't done… and so many things I've missed doing, admittedly. Before we found our soul jams, my friends and I used to travel a lot together. Mostly apart, but… I liked when we could meet, and set our camps beside each other. I learned a lot from them.”

Pure Vanilla gestures to the tent, eyes opening slightly, allowing Shadow Milk the sight of the colors so similar to those of his own past. It's detestable, but still a curious thing. If he were still anything close to what he once was, he might have wondered if there were any real reason for it. But he's not, so he doesn't.

“Dark Cacao taught me how to prepare this sort of tent, for example. Inclimate weather wasn't something White Lily and I ever learned to prepare for, we both came from more temperate places, but Dark Cacao thought it'd be negligent to let us continue in ignorance once we'd met him.” The tent is something far different from what you'd find used in other parts of the continent. Thicker fibers, more layers, even a secondary tarp hung to keep a barrier between the ventilation hole in the ceiling and the elements. Aside from that, when Shadow Milk had been outside, he could see a wall built from the snow to defend against any winds.

“Didn't teach you well enough. Either you forgot, which to be fair with how old you are it's not like memory loss isn't just waiting around the corner for you, or he just never got it through your thick skull! Which, honestly, maybe that's more likely. From what I recall from your time at the spire, it takes you a lot of time to learn even the simplest of lessons.” Shadow Milk huffs, taking Pure Vanilla's twig and poking at the muddy slush at the edge of the blanket. “You slept in mud often?” He chuckles, finding the image of the well-put-together Pure Vanilla accidentally rolling over in his sleep just to get a faceful of mud quite amusing.

Pure Vanilla harrumphs, eyes narrowing as he turns his head away. It takes a moment to register in his mind, but Shadow Milk feels his grin widen as he realises Pure Vanilla was blushing. He was embarrassed! How… how… pathetic.

“Aw, Nilly, you don't have to be shy! I've heard mud baths are popular, surely mud beds aren't unheard of!” Shadow Milk teases, leaning closer as Pure Vanilla continues to hunch himself down. “I mean, not that it's smart.”

“I just can't prepare it as well as he can. I never know when it's best to pack the snow or to just dig out the snow–” Pure Vanilla stops, pouting as he crosses his arms, turning his narrowed gaze back to Shadow Milk. “It's still fine.”

“These kinds of conditions can kill you, you know!” Shadow Milk hums pleasantly, clasping his hands together by his cheek. “Just roll off your paltry little blanket and you're one step closer to hypothermia! Not to mention, choosing a place this close to a cliff? With no trees or anything as a windbreak? Why, you're just begging for the wind to tear your camp away!”

“It's supposed to be calmer weather.” Pure Vanilla repeats, before poking (poking!) Shadow Milk's shoulder sharply. “I know what I'm doing, I just… haven't had any reason to do this in… well.” Pure Vanilla's eyes drift closed again as he sighs, leaning back with his hands behind himself to prop him up. That package he'd pulled out earlier sits in his lap, largely forgotten, but now that Shadow Milk can see it… “A long time. I guess… I am a little rusty.”

Shadow Milk blinks, eyes flicking back to Pure Vanilla's face for a moment before looking down at the package again. He quickly snatches it away, tossing the thermos back to Pure Vanilla in the same moment and ignoring the surprised noise the cookie makes before he undoes the knot with deft fingers. “More like very unprepared, but you can be forgiven. Old age does that to a cookie.” Shadow Milk quips with only half a mind, more curious as to what lay in the bundle he'd just stolen. “And what is this?” He coos, drawing from among the torn paper a… scarf?

A scarf. Blue, checker patterned, warm to the touch. In dreams, items were more representative than literal very often– thus, they often had attributes that in reality you wouldn't ever get. It's rather similar to some of the more physical illusions Shadow Milk can conjure up, where there's often a subconscious characteristic that makes the item feel tangibly different to a real item. His pillows, for example, were soft as cotton candy clouds, and just as cool. It made for a good bed, but anyone with half a brain would be able to feel something wrong about them. So the scarf being warm wasn't really a surprise. It was just… unexpected. You could feel the care and time put into it, even if it were only a dream’s conjuration, the fibers soft and telling of hours upon hours. The warmth pulses in rhythms, like the crackling of a flame or beating of a heart– this, is a gift. And a rather affectionate one at that.

“Ah– um.” Pure Vanilla breaks the sudden stillness that's taken hold of Shadow Milk, allowing him to drop the scarf as if it were hot coals, turn to Pure Vanilla with an accusing glare– but the sheepish expression on the cookies face, and the way he kept his eyes trained on the edge of the blanket as he minutely fidgeted with the collar of his winter cloak, gave Shadow Milk pause. “Well, I suppose it's fine you open it now. It is meant for you.” Pure Vanilla sighs. “I only wish…”

He sighs again, and Shadow Milk rolls his eyes. “Come on, Nilly, you know moping is a real bad look on you. Aren't you supposed to be all hope and sunshine, and all that garbage?” Shadow Milk crosses his arms, refusing to touch that scarf again– even if its landed in his lap, and he technically was still touching it, he wasn't going to hold it, and that was the more important thing. Dreams are just as capable of lying as anything, in fact they were really a perfect medium for it, and he refused to engage with the nonsense they bring.

Pure Vanilla shoots a half-hearted glare his way, the most frustrated he's looked since Shadow Milk has started this whole dream-sharing thing. It doesn't last, of course, the expression easing back into something more sad and… wanting, perhaps. “It's just a dream, isn't it? I haven't actually given you anything. I haven't even been able to make a scarf for you.”

Rule one of dream manifestations: any time the dreamer recognizes the setting, you absolutely don't acknowledge it. A dream can not comprehend it's a dream; and so despite his surprise that Pure Vanilla was very aware of his state right now, Shadow Milk doesn't let any of it show. He picks a different thread to pull, raises a brow with a disinterested expression. “You knit?” He asks, bored and unsurprised. It's exactly the kind of kitschy little craft a sap like him would be interested in. If the scarf was manifest of warmth and affection, it's quite obvious he imagined being the one to knit the sentimentality into it.

“No, but I would like to.” Pure Vanilla looks down at the thermos in his lap and takes it up, twisting the cap off and turning it over to pour in some of the warm beverage. “Again, there's a lot of things I haven't done, and things I'd like to start doing again. Knitting is a small thing to start with, I think. I mean, I already could spin my own yarn. I imagine it would be more fun to use it.” He takes a long sip, letting out a pleased hum after setting the cup down. He offers the thermos back to Shadow Milk, and lets it hang between them as their gazes lock. “It's not poisoned, it's actually quite lovely.”

“I don't drink. Or eat. Or do anything you mortal cookies need to do to survive. Don't need to, and so I see no point to.” Shadow Milk responds with a shrug. Pure Vanilla tilts his head, and the firelight catches on his moving hair to make it shine like strands of gold. He wonders, briefly, if he could get away with tucking a lock into the fire. How long would it take to engulf the cookie entirely?

“You can try it, I'm sure you'll like it.” Pure Vanilla insists, a small smile returning to his face, eyes only half-open. “Even if it's just a dream. I'll settle for this, if you won't be my friend in reality.”

Even in his dreams, ever the diligent little liar. Shadow Milk scowls. “I have had hot chocolate before. It's not worth a whole lot of praise.” He sniffs, though the memory is too foggy for him to really tell what his actual thoughts had been. Just that… someone had made it for him, and he had been… he’d been… Well. Nevermind, nothing like that matters anymore. It's in the past, far in the past, and not worth mulling over. “Save it for your real friends, Pure Vanilla.” If his words sound awfully contemptuous, then it doesn’t seem to bother Pure Vanilla any.

The thermos is inched closer, shaken slightly as if to tempt. Shadow Milk doesn’t even bother pushing it away, simply meeting Pure Vanilla’s gentle gaze with a heated glare. It's not like he'd have the time to drink it anyways. Pure Vanilla is waking up.

“Maybe you should try it again. You haven't in a long time, and some things are worth experiencing.” His words fade as the dream fades, but Shadow Milk manages to hear them still.

He opens his eyes and takes a breath in, air tinged with only the memory of smoke and chocolate.

Chapter Text

There's many many many rooms in the spire, each with a purpose known only to itself. There's a room where bunnies practice their trumpets, a room where wolves sew their costumes, a room full of puppets cut from their strings, and a room full of puppets ready to be used. There's craft rooms and stages and so much it's almost impossible to keep track; the spire is meant to be impossible to keep track of, now, so it's honestly a point of pride.

The room Shadow Milk finds himself in is one among fifteen of its kind, though technically it also served as another crafts room for him to make his puppets or set pieces and the like. Though, for its original purpose (and primary purpose) it serves as a rather robust kitchen.

Shadow Milk stirs a pot on the stove, barely paying any mind to the action, watching over a shoulder to direct a floating pair of scissors to cut fabric he'd already traced a pattern over. Multitasking, as it was more or less boring to do only one or the other. At least his “cooking” is nearly done.

And just in time, it seems. For a place with hundreds of ever-shifting rooms, the residents within have a pretty good grasp of its labyrinthian layout. But for a place with fifteen kitchens to choose from, you'd think the chances the little pests would pick the one he was currently occupying would be low. Apparently not.

“Master Shadow Milk?” Black Sapphire comes to a stop in the doorway, blocking the ever-eager Candy Apple, who upon hearing the name of her dear Master has become quite energized. His voice is surprised, but restrained. An attempt at covering up his shock that falls flat to a trained ear. Shadow Milk turns his head to face them, a full one-eighty degrees, but doesn't pause in either of his tasks. He knows what he's doing, so he doesn't need to see, but an interruption is still annoying.

“Ah! If it isn't my favorite minions, here to make your breakfast?” He asks, despite knowing the answer. They're not exactly as immortal as he, after all, and need food. Black Sapphires cautious, slow nod only makes Shadow Milk's already too-wide grin grow wider, and his head snaps back into place the next instant. He looks down at the contents of the pot, humming thoughtfully a moment before snapping his fingers.

Immediately, three mugs appear in the air before him. It's a simple task to divide the contents of the pot– he'd made a bit too much for one cookie, and he wasn't going to need much anyways. Two mugs get filled to the brim and the third only halfway, and with a swipe of one hand he sends the two filled mugs to where his followers stood, one stunned and one barely restrained by a hand on her collar that was slowly loosening as it's owner stood gobsmacked.

“Well, I'll leave you to that! After you try my brilliant new elixir, of course.” Shadow Milk takes his own mug in his hand, turns to lean against the counter and watch as his minions enjoy his most generous gift. “Pretty sure it'll make your dough hard as stone. Or maybe it'll make it soft as cream. Who's to say for sure? I didn't really double check the recipe. But that's why I have you two to try it for me!” The now-empty pot tosses itself into the sink as he motions with his hand for them to go on. “So, drink up! Tell me how it makes you feel.”

“Yes, Master Shadow Milk! I won't waste a single drop!” Candy Apple declares, taking her mug out of the air and immediately taking a large gulp. A mistake, as she immediately jerks her head back and gags, eyes watering. “Hot! It's hot!” She pants, sticking her tongue out to let the air soothe it. Not that it really does anything to help her, but it's an amusing sight.

Black Sapphire sighs at her childish display, and takes his mug with a bit more caution. He blows on the surface for a moment before raising the edge to his lips, and after a small sip his eyes widen in wonder. “It's… amazing!” He says, quickly taking another, larger sip, sighing in content. “I've never had hot cocoa so tasty before!”

Shadow Milk preens at the praise, closing his eyes and nodding along as Candy Apple finally recovered from her burnt tongue to taste and join in the praises. “Yes, yes, well, I am a beast of many talents, you know this.” He boasts, raising his own mug to his lips thoughtlessly.

The moment the taste hits his tongue, he remembers why he dislikes the drink so much. It's warm and comforting, the bit of spice added giving a little zing and depth to the flavor pleasant and layered. This is a drink that will warm you on the coldest of days, carry you through the hardest times– a drink a friend would make after a day that just couldn't go right. The memory of the last time he's had such a drink floods his mind, unable to stop himself from indulging in vile reminiscence.

~

“Oh, Blue! Rare you come down from your tower, come in, come in!” They greet, light, sugar-sweet giggles following behind them as they lead him into their humble (ha) home. He doesn't visit often, it's much too large a trek most days with how busy he is, but he happened to be nearby today. He's grateful they let him in without a missive sent ahead to warn them.

“I'm hardly ever in my tower nowadays, honestly. More house calls than visitors now.” He sighs, shakes his head slightly, smiles wry and unfelt. “Thank you for letting me inside, I'm so terribly sorry for the lack of warning.”

They scoff, pushing him swiftly into an armchair soft as spun sugar. “Nonsense. You're my dear friend, aren't you? Or did you get so lost in your books you forgot that?” They gently swat his shoulder, and he chuckles along as they hurried to their little kitchenette, wings all aflutter in their delight.

Their receiving room was prepared for entertaining, certainly. Comfortable, cozy furniture perfect to rest your eyes on, but also made easily to move out of the way. For someone so prone to celebration, it was necessary. Though, he knows they hardly use it for more than comfort now. “Something new, yes? I feel you're not here simply because you were in the area.”

“I certainly wished it had been.” He responds, sighing softly. “I wouldn't want to burden you with an explanation. Your company is enough. I have missed you, after all.”

“Well, Blue, lucky for you I've got nothing better to do! Besides, what kind of Virtue would I be if I left you to wallow?” They smile, quickly putting a pot on the stove, pouring a bottle of milk in without looking. “You've listened to me complain plenty yourself, you know.”

“I don't want to give you more work.” He clarifies, and they quickly turn back to the pot with an annoyed hum.

“You're my friend. It's not work. You'd pile your woes on any of the other Virtues without hesitation, wouldn't you?” He remains silent, which they take as the answer it was. “If it were a bad day for it, I wouldn't have answered the door.”

“Then…” He pauses, sighing again as he slumps back in the chair, closing his eyes. “Recent lessons haven't been going over well. Not many are happy with the answers I've been giving them.”

“Well, that's not new. It's just getting to you again, isn't it?” He opens his eyes to watch the milk splash from whatever they last added to it, and he nods. They can not see him, but again. They know his answer well enough. “Can't help with that, but I can give you a distraction!” They turn their grin to him, and though their words pierce his heart he grins in return.

“Another game?” He asks, almost eager. They shake their head, but he's no less enthused. It must be news of the other virtues, then.

“More, a peek into the culinary genius I've conjured up.” They respond, before turning the stove off and pouring the pot out into a mug. “It's part of a game between Spice and I, but it's also something you haven't tried before! So, tell me what you think, and I'll explain what the game is.”

The aroma as they cross the room is rich, and only grows stronger as they draw closer. They pass him the mug, and he's careful to blow on it a few times before taking a sip. He hums, pleased, at the taste– certainly, a new favorite of his. “It's better than the peppermint variant! You make this for Spice?” It certainly suited his tastes, with that kick of spice, but he'd have thought it too sweet for him.

“High praise, I guess peppermint isn't your favorite anymore, huh?” They chuckle warmly, rubbing his shoulder roughly before flopping down into their own chair across from him, feathers ruffling and sticking out at odd angles until they adjust to account for the limbs. There was good reason their chairs were so plush. “Yep, he got bored of the bitter cocoa and challenged me to make something better. So I started adding spices to it, different measurements each time, and he's started guessing what I've put in!”

“A guessing game?” He asks, licking his lips before taking another sip. Ah, yes, he could see now– it would be fun to guess on what he could taste, given they blended so nicely. “Could I try?” They wince, glancing everywhere else in the room before meeting his eyes again, a little guilty looking.

“No offense, Blue, but you probably know what I've put in. Not much of a guess for you, you know? The fun is in how much Spice gets wrong.” He feels his heart sink again, but that's… fair enough. It's definitely not true that he knows for certain, he is simply guessing, but his guesses may just be more accurate.

“I understand. It's lovely, though.” He takes another sip, and sighs as the tension melts out of him. “Thank you, again.”

“Not a problem! Always happy to host my favourite know-it-all. Speaking of hosting, last time Spice was here…”

~

He blinks open his eyes, shaking himself out of the memory, lips curling.

He doesn't know why he remembers the recipe. It's not like he's ever made it before. He's only ever drank it, and… and it's been a long, long time since someone would make it for him. When was the last time someone even thought to invite him as a guest…?

Okay, he's had enough remembering already, thank you.

He sets the mug down on the counter with a loud slam, only barely managing not to shatter it with the force. His devotees were too distracted by their treat to notice, but instead of the ire he expected to feel he was… relieved. As he lets the tight feeling in his chest untangle itself, he watches Black Sapphire and Candy Apple eagerly drinking their fill, taking pauses to chat with each other like… like this was their normal. He's never actually been around to see how their breakfast routine goes, really.

They're cheerful.

They seem even more happy with the drink he'd given them.

And while they glanced over to him between their words, it wasn't with any scorn or derision. Even the confusion they'd initially viewed him with was gone. They just seemed… pleased. Glad for him to join them, even if he wasn't speaking with them. It's odd. He hasn't seen something like that since before the first beast fell, and he means long before.

He glances down at his mug and narrows his eyes, flicking his fingers to send it towards the sink basin to pour it out and set aside. It seems that they're too busy to make anything more substantial for their breakfasts today, distracted as they are. Well. Shadow Milk just can't leave his dear followers to starve– he has no use for crumbs, after all. He'll just cut up some fruit and leave it on the counter for them to take. It'll be their prerogative to choose whether they take it or not.

Maybe if they do an exceptionally good job spreading rumors and lies today, he'll make them more hot chocolate. Something something, the carrot rather than the stick, or whatever. Or perhaps sugar catches more flies? Something like that. Whatever the case, an incentive never hurts.

The fabric finishes cutting itself the same moment he finishes slicing the last piece of fruit, and he quickly moves along to gather his patches and the other materials and tools he'll need before turning to his minions with yet another wide grin. “Well! You know what you'll be doing already, I don't need to repeat myself I'm sure!” He says, drawing their attention swiftly. “Just keep up the good work, and don't disturb me today. I'll be busy.”

With that, and without waiting for a response, he sweeps out of the room, pale yellow thread trailing after him.

Chapter Text

It's dark and cold once again, but there's no crash of licorice waves and no tent to shelter them. Snow drifts down from above in gentle spirals and moonlight peeks through small breaks in the clouds to illuminate only in small streaks, but a beast that lives in shadows is hindered by none. Not to mention, Pure Vanilla couldn't see regardless.

Speaking of said cookie, he crouches at the edge of a frozen pond, knapsack and snow-barrier blanket set behind him, staff somehow nowhere to be found. They're not in the Dark Cacao kingdom anymore, clearly, but it's almost like an intentional sequel to the previous night. Pure Vanilla traces patterns in the frosted surface of the ice with a finger, smiling softly to himself and humming as he works, not even acknowledging Shadow Milk's presence.

Grating. Almost as grating as the way the silver moonlight catches on his form– since his “ascension” Pure Vanilla couldn't really be viewed without the one looking being given reason to think he was made of light, with how easily he seems to glow. It makes it difficult to look at him, unpleasant and certainly not worth the hassle. At the very least, moonlight is softer. Shadow Milk can tolerate it a bit more.

“What? No hello? Not even going to look at me, how rude of you.” Shadow Milk says, floating up and hovering above Pure Vanilla to watch his careful tracing. He's drawing, it seems, barely visibly and pretty poorly. But it's unmistakably an attempt at a sheep, because the fool had nothing else he cared about so much it seems. Or maybe it was just the one thing he knew how to trace even without any sight whatsoever.

Pure Vanilla hums some more, pausing in his work to stand and clasp his hands together in front of himself. “You know I can't see.” He says, tone light, amused. “It's nice that you are here, though. I was wondering when you'd arrive.” Shadow Milk raises a brow for a moment, incredulous for a split second before realizing– duh. He's going to start anticipating Shadow Milk's arrival because Shadow Milk is appearing every night. He must be really off his game now, what a dull way for this to fail. Too frequent of attempts. He'll have to start taking nights off, but probably not immediately. That'd be suspicious, after all.

“You're all alone in the wilderness at night, right by a very convenient frozen pond. Of course I showed up.” Shadow Milk responds, expression souring as Pure Vanilla lets out a light laugh. “You forget too quickly we're not friends, you know.”

“You don't do much to convince me.” Pure Vanilla says, chuckling even more as Shadow Milk scowls. Even if he can not see, he can still clearly guess the effects his words had. Before Shadow Milk can let out a scathing retort, though, Pure Vanilla turns to face the pond, arms folding behind his back as he– well, “looked out” would be factually wrong– pretends to look out across the ice. “Have you ever ice skated?” He asks the question quickly, all in one breath, anticipating Shadow Milks interruption.

The question is so remarkably bizarre and unexpected Shadow Milk is forced to pause, blinking a few times in stunned befuddlement, not entirely unlike Black Sapphire's expression earlier that morning. Pure Vanilla doesn't clarify, elaborate, or retract his question, simply standing with hands clasped tightly around his forearms and shoulders tensed.

“Have I ice skated before?” Shadow Milk repeats, incredulous, watching as Pure Vanilla turns at the waist to face him. “You seriously asked me if I had ice skated before?” At Pure Vanilla's nod, he quickly shakes off any signs of lingering shock. “I mean, of course. I've lived a looooong time, Vanilly, you'd have a hard time finding something I've never done.” A lie, really. Shadow Milk had wasted many of his years before his fall as a lump in a library, reading and giving lectures and all around experiencing nothing but answering question after question (and receiving nothing but ungrateful little gnats whining and crying about not liking the truth, because bitter pills were tough for sweeter crumbs to swallow). He hasn't done quite a lot of things, especially anything that requires you to be outside to do it.

He doesn't like thinking about it, it's irrelevant now anyhow, but in addition he just doesn't care to let Pure Vanilla know just how much of his vast encyclopedic knowledge was all book-read and not experience. It's not like Pure Vanilla really had many more experiences than him in the long run anyways.

“Great!” Pure Vanilla says. Shadow Milk watches as he turns to grab his knapsack off the ground, drawing out not one, but two pairs of skates. “It's no fun skating alone, or, really… it's incredibly unsafe to skate blind, alone.” Pure Vanilla chuckles, holding out one of the pairs of skates.

Shadow Milk, once again, is left mentally stumbling after this utter idiot. “Are you serious?” He asks, unable to draw up the act or bravado he normally contains, his theatrics for one moment on pause simply because he's too confused. And it should be very hard to confuse him, the ex-Fount of Knowledge and current Beast of Deceit. Pure Vanilla simply stands there, smiling expectantly, like Shadow Milk is just going to give in to his silly whims. “Did you miss the part where I said we're not friends? I'm not skating with you.”

“You could let me fall into the bank, and it's not like I could check the ice to see if it'd hold. If you really want me hurt, it's incredibly easy. You also pointed that out.” Pure Vanilla responds easily, as if this argument had been rehearsed. It's stupid. It's doubly stupid that Pure Vanilla knows it's stupid and is going ahead and offering a bizarre amount of trust anyways. His expectant look is hard to ignore, grating on Shadow Milk's nerves, but it's a good opportunity. A dream about skating, turned into a dream about drowning. Simple, effective nightmare. That's Shadow Milk's goal, so he might as well take the easy route.

Still. He's going to make his displeasure known.

“Ughhhhhh.” He groans, slumping back and rolling his eyes before snatching the skates out of Pure Vanillas hand. “Fine, fine! If you want so badly to skate, we'll skate. Just don't complain when you take a dive in the frozen pond, okay?”

“I would never.” Pure Vanilla places his newly freed hand on his chest, just above his heart, tilting his head slightly in that splendiferously sappy manner of his. Did he think that made him seem endearing? Shadow Milk shoots one last glare his way before putting on the skates.

The worst part, really, is having to land, and walk for once. It's not that he's incapable of it, but Shadow Milk prefers floating for a multitude of reasons that can be summed up as: why not. The ache and strain of walking is such a chore, standing is tiring, in all regards it's easier to just float using magic.

It's doubly uncomfortable to do such things in unfamiliar footwear, but Pure Vanilla slides into the skates and stands smoothly enough to speak to experience. That, or it's just a dream. Most cookies can dream up capabilities they lack in reality, and Pure Vanilla would not be special nor different to be one of them. Still, it makes Shadow Milk huff and cross his arms, petulant at the sight of his worst foe having an easier time than him strapping on the same deathtraps.

“Thank you, Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla says, and then–

“Hey! Don't just grab me like I'm some doll, I need my personal space!” Shadow Milk bristles, jerking back as Pure Vanilla loops their arms together, hand gently resting in the crook of his elbow. How he manages to keep that grip is beyond Shadow Milk, given the fool doesn't even try to tighten his hold.

“I can't see, so I'll need you to guide me. You can't quite do that without touching me.” Pure Vanilla sounds, if anything, slightly amused. Like he'd expected this reaction. Course he did, foolish little gnat. He won't be so amused once Shadow Milk tears his arm off. “We could hold hands, if you prefer.” He suggests, a teasing lilt to his voice that betrays how he knows Shadow Milk would not prefer that in the least.

Shadow Milk grumbles at that, rage flickering in his chest at the utterly delighted little laugh that elicits in the rotten thief, but he accepts that this will simply be the only way to move forward. Quite literally, in any case. Unfortunately Pure Vanilla seems to anticipate the sudden jerk into motion, matching his steps easily. Well. Up until the complication arises.

The complication being that, soon as the blade of his skate touches the ice, his balance wavers. Soon as he lifts the other to join it, he's left scrambling for purchase.

Pure Vanilla, however, the little perfect pest he is, stands steadily and easily, somehow managing to angle his skates in order to better brace against the flailing of the jester. He doesn't seem to mind Shadow Milk digging his nails into cloth and dough, or at least tolerates it with grace, and holds him up just as firmly as Shadow Milk gripped onto him not to fall.

Amusement makes his eyes shine, and for a moment as Shadow Milk catches his breath they just stare. The air is still, the frozen land silent, and Shadow Milk is entirely too warm. He grits his teeth and, slowly now, pulls himself back upright, the little embers of righteous anger churning in his stomach as he ignores Pure Vanilla's barely stifled little giggles. He finds his balance much easier on the second attempt, but before he could properly distance himself from Pure Vanilla his hands are grabbed and he is kept there, barely inches between their chests, forced to face Pure Vanilla and his moonlight-blessed glow.

Pure Vanilla moves his hands, gripping further down Shadow Milk's forearms, enough leverage to brace against him. It's steadying, and it only takes one moment more before Shadow Milk realizes what he's doing. “It must have been a long time since you last skated, I suppose. It can be hard, regaining your balance.” Pure Vanilla says, one foot gliding back, leaning into the motion to pull Shadow Milk along. They move slowly, Shadow Milk watching both the path beyond Pure Vanilla and his feet, slowly learning how to match the movements. “Remember, back straight, knees bent, feet shoulder-width apart. Simple enough, correct?”

“Shut up.” Shadow Milk hisses. They carve a gentle arc along the edge of the pond, Shadow Milk forced to return the bracing hold in order to steer the both of them. It's practicality alone. If Pure Vanilla wasn't holding him so tightly, Shadow Milk would have let him fall. It has nothing to do with how utterly weak his legs feel the longer they go on, and how much focus he has to spare just to keep from stumbling from that alone.

After a minute of the only sound being the scrape of the blade against ice, Pure Vanilla speaks again.

“This reminds me of how I learned to skate.” He says, voice tinged with nostalgic longing, smile soft and fond when Shadow Milk glances to see it. “It was one of the time's we were all travelling together, during the winter. We had come across a lake, and it was solid enough to walk across. Dark Cacao and White Lily had gone to figure out how to carve down through the ice, to fish, since we normally foraged and hunted on the longer journeys. To make our supplies last longer–”

“That has nothing to do with skating.” Shadow Milk interrupts, brow raising, staring with bored disappointment. The cookie couldn't even keep track of his own story. “If you're gonna tell stories I could care less about, could you at least get to the point? Or make them fun, add in some flair, like we had to split up after some vagabonds hunted us down, or something. I mean, cmon, seriously? Ice fishing? Talk about a bore!”

Pure Vanilla sighs, not as frustrated as Shadow Milk knows he can get, but still. Any sign that he was grating on the other's nerves was a good one. “Well, while they were busy, that left Golden Cheese, Hollyberry, and I to set up camp. We got done pretty quickly, and Golden Cheese had settled in the tent because she didn't like the cold–” Pure Vanilla removes one arm from the hold keeping them upright, covering Shadow Milk's mouth for two seconds before yanking away and restoring their stabilizing formation just as Shadow Milk's teeth latch onto open air. Shadow Milk sneers; if he didn't want his hand to be bitten, he should keep it far from his mouth. Too bad Shadow Milk had reacted a touch too slow. “So Hollyberry and I were left with nothing to do. She had bought skates in the last town we had visited, convinced everyone to actually, but it was the only chance we had to use them. Though the silliest part is, she didn't know how to use them!”

Pure Vanilla laughs at the fond memory, eyes slipping closed again as he retreats into that pleasant time. If Shadow Milk tried, he could likely draw that memory out, superimpose it atop this dream and see it himself. It'd be a simple matter, dreams were mostly memory anyhow. He doesn't, though. He doesn't care enough to.

“She convinced me to try, too, even though I couldn't see; skating with my staff wasn't really possible, but she offered to be my eyes for me. So, after a lot of flailing and falling, we finally figured out that if we held each other like this;” He squeezes, lightly, the grip on Shadow Milk's arms. “That it was pretty easy to stay upright. Moving was a bit trickier, but we got the hang of it pretty fast. And now, we both can skate on our own pretty well!”

“But you're still blind.” Shadow Milk can't help but add, to which Pure Vanilla only chuckles.

“Well, we figured out methods to assist with that. I didn't like skating alone much anyways.” He gives a little half shrug, opening his eyes again, meeting Shadow Milk's with a smile. “You're doing much better, now. You're a quick learner.”

“Don't sound so surprised.” Shadow Milk grumbles, glancing back down at their feet for a moment, adjusting the positioning of his skate minutely. “I was once the Fount of Knowledge. The list of things I don't know is pretty small.”

Pure Vanilla lets out a small hum, thoughtful and fond. “Is how to skate one of those things?” He asks, receiving another glare for his flippancy. Not that he could see it, even this close. “Or, was, I suppose. You definitely know now.”

“I already knew how.” Shadow Milk responds, snippily, but Pure Vanilla doesn't seem to care. It's always frustrating to see how little an effect Shadow Milk has on him now, when in the spire he'd been a delightfully pliant puppet. “You just don't listen to a word I say!” He huffs, turning his cheek to Pure Vanilla.

“You are a liar. Forgive me for not taking you at your word.” Pure Vanilla chuckles, rubbing his thumb in a small circle on Shadow Milk's arm, the sensation burning even through the fabric of his sleeve. His gentle, thoughtless ministrations are why Shadow Milk always avoided his touch in dreams previous, but this scene left him no choice but to suffer them.

“You're so cruel, Nilly, making such accusations!” Shadow Milk dramatically bemoans, tutting reproachfully. The laugh he gets in response is just as grating as any other he's heard that night, but ends much too fast to properly get on Shadow Milk's nerves. “If I'm going to lie, you're not going to know about it.”

“I'm sure,” Pure Vanilla says. It's certainly not sincere, but such slights can be excused… for now.

Chapter Text

Pancakes are a staple of any good breakfast, and paired with sliced up fruits, a perfect one.

It's been a few days of the new routine, where Shadow Milk would get up before his followers and prepare them a meal before sending them out to task. Today is destined to be different, if only because he's a bit restless. It's been almost as long since he last made an appearance in Pure Vanilla's dreams, and having nothing to do all night has once again become a tedium he couldn't tolerate. There's only so many things you could add to a bedroom, and only so many times you can strangle a plushie of your greatest foe in his stead before you have to place it on a shelf to avoid some nosy little creatures questioning you. There’s other things he can do, to be fair, the spire is made to entertain after all, but nothing feels appealing.

It's born out of necessity as much as want. He can conjure a lot of things in his spire, but food is more complicated. It is simply easier to take what they need from elsewhere, the spire didn't exactly have a predictable climate for cultivation and the only one capable of performing the labor for it would ultimately be Shadow Milk himself. It used to be an automatic process, the spire taking what was needed from market stalls or delivery karts thanks to some complex spellwork Shadow Milk had been quite proud of, but it's become clear in the past few days that something had broken that spell, and Shadow Milk didn't have the time nor energy to remake it. Thus it's time to take things into their own hands, and retrieve supplies themselves.

Essentially, Shadow Milk is bored and something deep inside him itches to leave the spire, just for a few hours. There's good reason to “lay low” for now, but he can't stand being cooped up. Even less, after the whole thing with the tree and all.

He sets plates at a table he conjures up in the center of the room, pulls the barstools from the counter and then waves a hand to draw a pitcher of juice from its storage. Two glasses, filled only halfway because if Candy Apple drank too much she got somehow even more energetic and she's stolen from Black Sapphire to get around Shadow Milks deliberate shorting before, are the final things set in place. It's still too early, though, so Shadow Milk picks a few berries off of each plate and eats them, indulging in the unnecessary little habit he'd thought he'd managed to kick for good.

That was also, probably, why they were running out of food so much sooner than expected.

Candy Apple rushes to her seat just as Shadow Milk hops onto the counter to sit as he snacks, immediately cheering a good morning and a thank you before digging in. Black Sapphire follows after her a bit more sluggishly, fiddling with his hair to get it to lay just so before chiming his own thanks and greetings. It's a slower morning than most, ordinarily they are filled to the brim with plans to execute and things they thought interesting to share with each other– Shadow Milk has never really paid much attention to it, the mornings have never involved him until very recently, but he knows it's normally a loud affair. It's easier for him to get their attention without their yammering, however, so he pays it no heed.

“I have a plan for today!” He announces, at the opportune time when Black Sapphire is dozing off and about to dip his face into his pancakes, startling the surprisingly tired cookie awake with the boisterous declaration. Candy Apple practically leaps out of her seat, eyes shining, eager to please as always.

“What kind of plan?! Does this mean I can work with you today?!” She squeals, all delight and wonder and admiration to boot, little wings flapping behind her in her excitement. Shadow Milk grins.

“Well, we need to do a few little errands, and I thought I'd be oh so generous and lend you a hand today.” He says, and the squeal Candy Apple let out at that was nearly sharp enough to make ears bleed. It certainly does manage to wake Black Sapphire up, who immediately whips his head around to glare at the over-eager cookie beside him. “It'll be a fun little trip! And once that's done, you both can go do… whatever it is you want to do, I don't care. No more work today, in any case.”

“How long are the errands supposed to take?” Black Sapphire asks, tone flat and brow raised, likely wary that the reason Shadow Milk doesn't demand more of them today may be because the errands won't be as quick or fun as Shadow Milk promises. Smart, it's not unlike Shadow Milk to twist the truth that way, but if things go right retrieving groceries really will be a quick, maybe only two-hours long task.

“Depends on how fast you both are.” Shadow Milk responds with a shrug, popping another small berry in his mouth to pull off an even more careless air. “But it's something that needs doing, unless you'd both prefer to starve.” He nods to gesture at their plates. “That's the last of the food in the spire.” An exaggeration. They do have a few more days worth of food, and it's not like his minions are so frail that one day of missed meals will do them in, but they'd do better work with an incentive. Besides, Shadow Milk wasn't exactly known to be honest.

Black Sapphire and Candy Apple share a glance, one Shadow Milk can't even begin to decipher. “... So, where are we going?” Black Sapphire asks after that silent communication, pushing a stray raspberry around on his plate with a fork, gaze analytical as he looks Shadow Milk up and down. It'd be offensive, really, if Shadow Milk particularly cared to notice.

“I was thinking the Hollyberry Kingdom! They have simply the best berry crops, I've heard.” And Shadow Milk, now that he's indulged a bit, has remembered how much he enjoys high-quality fruits. In addition, high quality fruits mean high-quality wines– and Shadow Milk hasn't had any of those in even longer than the fruit itself! “Plus, there's a good chance we may get news on Eternal Sugar's machinations while we visit. I imagine we're not getting a letter telling us anything anytime soon.” A good improvised excuse thrown in for good measure, if he didn't say so himself.

It's unlikely that layabout has made any moves so soon, really, and it's especially unlikely if anything were to occur on that front that it'd start in the Hollyberry kingdom, simply because it was much too far a distance– but who knows what the other beasts think nowadays? Shadow Milk hasn't had any insight to their inner processes in so long they may as well be strangers.

From what he does know, though, the trouble will almost certainly start in Beast-Yeast, and thus the little interlopers and the ancient fools will gather to attempt to resolve it. Meaning, Hollyberry Kingdom should be clear of any sign of those intrepid little gnats, and marginally safe to antagonize for a couple hours. And even if they had travelled back to their continent, they should have no reason to stop in a kingdom that is out of their way. Surely they'd go straight to their homes, Pure Vanilla at the least had to miss his with how often he dreams of it.

“We haven't been to that kingdom yet! We can spread our wonderful deceit to someplace new!” Candy Apple cheers as Shadow Milk nods along. It's supposed to be a fun trip, after all. They'd have plenty of opportunity to spread a bit of lies and chaos. Even if it wasn't part of their goal technically, it was undoubtedly on the list of absolute must-do's. Otherwise, how fun would the trip really be?

~

It takes time to come up with illusions and stories, but eventually Shadow Milk is able to get everything in line enough to transport them to the jungle just outside the Hollyberry Kingdom. His minions make short work of any of the wildlife that tries to make a threat of itself, keeping him from having to lift even a finger, and they are able to charter a boat to cross the river without him even having to say a word. They're showing off, he knows, and he appreciates that it means he has to spare no effort beyond staying upright.

It seems that though in dreams he may experience the aches walking provides, it still holds no candle to the pains of reality. It's nothing he can't handle, but it's annoying enough that once they reach the market stalls and it's clear that Candy Apple is practically about to explode with her eager anticipation, he turns her loose.

“Keep an eye on her, will you?” Shadow Milk sighs, watching the small form of Candy Apple Cookie bound off into the marketplace, giggling mischievously and completely indiscreetly. Black Sapphire doesn't need to give a verbal confirmation, already after her with a hissed get back here, and soon the two of them disappear among the crowds, leaving Shadow Milk alone.

It wasn't as if either of them couldn't handle themselves, in fact the plan initially was “divide and conquer,” in terms of strategy. They had a lot they needed to gather, and it's easier to notice a group of three placing unpaid for goods in mass quantities into their baskets rather than one singular person.

Shadow Milk simply didn't want them to stray too far from each other, in case of a need for quick egress, and they all had been meant to stay together for at least a small portion of time to keep up appearances in addition. Alas, there's little energy he can spare for an overeager child, and his legs really may give out if he allowed Candy Apple to set their pace. Easier to let her run off alone earlier than intended, better to let Black Sapphire supervise.

They should be fine. They spent a good hour or so preparing their illusions– Shadow Milk comparatively spent much less effort on his shapeshifting, if anyone was playing the truly risky game it was him– so they shouldn't be so easily recognizable. Especially by cookies who will likely only know of them through hearsay. Still, though.

He sighs again, running a hand over his braid and pulling it over his shoulder, plastering on a fond smile he may or may not be copying from some thief who held the expression far too commonly. Quiet exasperation creeps into the edges of it, but to anyone looking it'd be a natural expression befitting of someone motherly. For the lie they were selling, now, that was the most important thing.

Shadow Milk hefts a basket up, settling it in the crook of his arm and using his free hand to smooth out the wrinkles in his apron. He's gone for something simple, for once. He dislikes coming off as anything less than nobility, pride and vanity demands he only look his best so people can know exactly the quality of cookie they find themselves in the presence of, but he's also aware that in the name of laying low he needs to be someone who doesn't draw any second glances. A kindly, meager little housemaid running errands doesn't draw eyes anymore than a dull stone would, and so that's what he's become today.

He finishes fiddling with his appearance in one last nudge, pushing his faux glasses back up his face, before finally entering the marketplace himself. He walks with grace and confidence, smoothly avoiding even brushing arms with the cookies in the crowds as he weaves through them. He stops at some stalls, passes by others, examines wares as he chatters to the stall owners the idle pleasantries expected of his appearance. At each one he discreetly slips another fruit into his basket, letting it sink under the kerchief cover and into the dark void of shadows to store. He can carry much more this way, make careful and slow progress that is near impossible to detect. It's a miniscule enchantment he's performed for the bags Candy Apple and Black Sapphire carry on them as well, with the added benefit that if either of them happens to be noticed their outturned bags will provide no proof.

He can't help but cause a bit of trouble as he goes along, of course. At some stalls he picks up some of the produce and gasps dramatically and loudly, drawing eyes before he shoves the freshly rotted item into the face of the stall owner and accuses them of trying to sell bad quality at exorbitant prices. Illusions like that are easy to craft, and simple enough just to cause a few individuals problems before going on about his day. Normally, the crowd will take over his fight if the stall owner gets defensive enough; the clearly wealthy ones always do, and so they're who he targets most. Though it's more to do with the fact that some of them stock wines he has interest in tasting, and stealing those takes a decent distraction given their value.

At other stalls, he doesn't need to do so much work. There are a few couples working the market together, and it's as simple as exchanging a few pleasantries with the husband before drifting over to the wife to whisper about unfaithful behavior. Simple, effective lies that cause a lot more discord over time. He can't witness the fallout so immediately in most cases, but it's amusing to see the few couples who've clearly already been strained fall apart right in front of him. It makes him capable of taking entire armfulls of produce without notice, too, so it's another useful little diversion.

At one point he even conjures a small snake to slither out of the bushes, shrieking to draw attention to it and causing quite the panic amongst the crowd. That one was really just for fun. He can't do too much, not enough to damage the overall cheery atmosphere, ultimately nothing he's done is anything that doesn't already happen, just normally not so frequently. It's a shame, but restraint is the better practice here. His minions most certainly are doing their best to wreak subtle havoc themselves, so cumulatively it's enough. For now.

When the ache in his legs gets too much he finds a crate to sit on, content to idly witness a brawl that breaks out at yet another stall. His attention locked on the conflict, and noticing that the stall owner's was too, he reaches into the opened crates beside his perch to take a package of blueberries out and slip it into his basket. Maybe they could make this a regular outing, if the entertainment would be so free.

Eventually the stall owner rushes over to break up the fight that in his eyes must be getting much too close to his wares, an amusing little addition that leads to two more cookies hopping into the fray. If this is what Hollyberry Kingdom is like normally, then he wouldn't even need to do any work to get his entertainment. Appealing, sometimes he likes a lazy day, even if he finds a lot of joy spreading deceit.

He picks out another package from the stall and tosses a few berries into his mouth as he watches, the brawl enough of a distraction for no one to notice nor care. The crowd seems to know these people, as if they got into these sorts of fights regularly enough to be known by name; bets are called out by a handful, and a tired woman standing with a clipboard in hand and a money pouch tied to her belt takes notes and collects coins. Spirited folk, they seem.

He feels a small prickling sensation run up along his skin as he watches, a feeling he ignores up until it becomes a concentrated itch. He glances around casually, rubs a hand over his arm to try to rid himself of it, before freezing.

That's impossible. He grits his teeth, shaking his head furiously as if to clear it, but no. No, his eyes aren't playing tricks on him, that is exactly who he thinks it is.

Their eyes lock, and though Shadow Milk knows that Pure Vanilla is blind, it feels as if he can see right through him.

“Hey, hey! There's better be a good reason for this fight, else I'm gonna want to join in!” The boisterous cookie besides Pure Vanilla bellows, chuckling as she slips her arm off of her friends shoulders. Hollyberry Cookie, if Shadow Milk wasn't mistaken. There's still a good ten feet between their little pair and where Shadow Milk sat, but it's quite clear that without his friend keeping him constrained Pure Vanilla was definitely going to close that gap.

Can he see again? His staff certainly isn't glowing as brightly as it had when he'd ascended, and he was still swinging it around as if he could use it to see. That may just be habit. But Shadow Milk shouldn't look too similar to himself, and he's definitely never actively used a look as dull as a housemaid before. So even if he could see, that still wouldn't explain how he'd found him.

Oh. There's the answer, isn't it” He didn't find him. Shadow Milk was overthinking it. Still, wouldn't hurt to leave, just to ensure it stays that way.

He tears his eyes away and quickly rises, shoving the remaining blueberries into his basket before making swift, but casual, steps towards the market edges. Where stalls became storefronts, and the wares shift from food and trinkets to goods and services. Pure Vanilla surely wouldn't wander far from Hollyberry, and she was clearly busy.

That itch fades, but it doesn't quite go away. His heartbeat is echoed by a gentle tugging on his Soul Jam, fast and incessant, and he clutches the hidden spot it rests as if to calm it. He ducks into the first storefront he finds without a line out the door, and sighs in relief once the walls have hidden him.

It's a relief that's short-lived, soon as he actually looks at where he's landed.

“Good afternoon, ma'am! Let me know if there's any book in particular you're looking for, or if you need any help reaching the higher shelves!” The cookie behind the counter says, carrying an over-large stack and pushing the hinged counter open with their foot to step out. Probably to reshelve them.

Shadow Milk was not keen on wasting any of his time reading the drivel cookies came up with nowadays, but he's also not keen on stepping outside and risking being seen by that traitorous thief. So instead of turning right back around and maybe destroying the place on his way out, he begins the slow, agonizing walk deeper inside.

He avoids the history section, the mathematics textbooks, anything nearing the sciences. He catches glimpses of familiar pen names, sneers at the gall these cookies have to keep such old tomes in circulation, but refuses to linger. He glances at books on art, on theatre and music, but it's only once he reaches the very back of the store, where all the shelves are decidedly fiction, that he actually pretends to peruse. He can tolerate them more, an infinitesimally small fraction, and that makes it easier to hide the disgust on his face.

Books. He is so, so tired of books. It may have been thousands of years since he'd last touched one but he doesn't think he'll ever be any less tired of them, of writing them or reading them or even just seeing them existing. Truly, a despicable place like this deserves the worst he can do to it. He'll make note to return someday, maybe in the night to avoid any witnesses, ruin this quaint little shop. It may be a fun endeavor. Certainly a worthwhile one.

There's that itch again, the tugging on his Soul Jam. Shadow Milk keeps his expression thoughtful and considering, leans closer to the books as if he were actually gleaning the titles, finger raised to chin and tapping thoughtfully. He's a housemaid running errands, looking for a suitable gift for his wards. His name is not Shadow Milk Cookie, and he is not the Beast of Deceit, he is the polite and demure Yogurt Swirl Cookie, a woman who'd never in her life have any reason to avoid the ancients, but also no reason to ever interact with them either.

Pure Vanilla would not see past that. Surely. That'd be… impossible.

“Oh, Pure Vanilla! I never thought I'd ever see an ancient hero in my store!” The bookseller chirps, brightly informing Shadow Milk that indeed those sensations were tied to the presence of his most detested. How bothersome, but… useful. “Let me know if I can help you find anything! I'd be honored to assist.” Shadow Milk suppresses the urge to roll his eyes, slowly stepping along down the aisle, still poring over titles he could care less about.

Oh, look. Another book. How nice. Oh! And another. Great. Definitely. Definitely loving this.

“Excuse me,” Shadow Milk flinches, as a startlingly familiar touch scalds his shoulder. He steps back, a hand over his heart as heat rises to his face, the perfect image of embarrassed and startled. No one could say he was bad at acting. Pure Vanilla's hand stays in the air, expression seemingly genuinely shocked to have garnered such a reaction, but honestly what did he expect? No one taps a stranger on the shoulder with no due cause and expects them to be totally fine about it. No one sensible anyhow.

Shadow Milk clears his throat, smoothing out his apron once again and averting his gaze. “A-ah, um, yes? I'm sorry, was I in your way?” He asks, careful to keep his voice feminine and light, taking a couple steps back. Pure Vanilla frowns, eyes tracking him as he moves, far too piercing to be unknowing. But he couldn't know. Even if he could see, Shadow Milk is quite literally not himself right now.

“No, no. I just thought…” Pure Vanilla pauses, retracting his hand to place it on his staff, closing his eyes once more as he adjusts its position. Can he see? It really irks Shadow Milk that he can't tell. “You were familiar.”

Shadow Milk laughs, awkward and nervous. “Oh, well, I don't think we've met.” He says, glancing back at Pure Vanilla briefly before smiling and ducking his head. “I'd have certainly remembered speaking with the Pure Vanilla, if we had.” He fidgets with the edge of his apron, shifting on his feet. Perfect nerves, perfect awkward encounter. Pure Vanilla couldn't possibly pursue his thread of suspicion, too softhearted to make any cookie uncomfortable guiltlessly.

Pure Vanilla hums. “Well, my apologies. I must have mistaken you for someone else.” He offers a small smile, maybe amused. What in the world did he think was so funny now? “But may I ask who you are, since we haven't met before?” There's a tone in the way he delivers those words that irks Shadow Milk, something a bit too knowing for his liking.

“I go by Yogurt Swirl Cookie, Sir.” Shadow Milk responds easily, taking one side of his skirt in hand as he curtseys politely, just a brief split-second dip before he rises again. Jilted, awkward, intentionally quick. Clearly trying to get through this encounter as fast as possible. “My apologies, but I am quite busy.” Without looking, he grabs a book off the shelf and turns to head towards the counter– he doesn't actually intend on buying it, but he has to look it.

He's stopped by a gentle tug on his sleeve, the fabric held delicately like the other would hate to tear it. “If you'd like, I can give you a recommendation. You seemed to be having a difficult time deciding which book to get.” Pure Vanilla tilts his head, hair cascading in an effect not dissimilar to what Shadow Milk has witnessed in dreams, and now the fluttering heat in his stomach rises to his face– it's an even worse sensation in reality, he finds.

“I'm sure this will be fine.” Shadow Milk raises the book he'd randomly grabbed, unable to keep his disgust from his expression. Pure Vanilla's smile turns sympathetic, and he turns as he releases Shadow Milk's sleeve. Despite his newfound freedom, he stays. Just out of curiosity, as Pure Vanilla runs a finger over the spines of the books and selects one, just a bit higher than Shadow Milk's current form can reach.

“I think this would suit you better, Miss Swirl.” Pure Vanilla says, holding out the book he's selected. Shadow Milk glances between it and him for a moment, face still burning, and huffs.

“You don't know me, Sir.” He can't help saying it, not when it's been on his mind since the cookie had the utter gall to lie about “understanding” him. It's fair enough to say now, in this circumstance, which is why he lets himself– but Pure Vanilla simply shakes his head as if he knows. And that is simply terrible to ponder. “I wasn't looking for myself, either.”

“Well, then consider it a gift!” Pure Vanilla says, unbothered by Shadow Milk's clear frustration. “I'll buy it for you, and next we meet you can tell me what you think of it.”

Shadow Milk's lips twist as if he'd tasted a lemon, and he glares at Pure Vanilla for a brief moment before he remembers himself, remembers where he is and who he is meant to be. He sets the random book he'd grabbed on a random shelf, rubs his face with his newly freed hand and sighs tiredly. “I don't think we'll meet again, sir.” His voice comes out dull and annoyed, but he can't work miracles. Pure Vanilla does try his patience.

“You never know,” Pure Vanilla hums. He seems to accept this as Shadow Milk's acceptance, gently linking arms with him and settling his hand in the crook of his elbow just beside the handle of the basket– it burns, and Shadow Milk can feel his face burn along with it, but he lets himself be pulled along to the counter. He keeps his gaze on the floor as Pure Vanilla chats idly with the bookkeep, free hand fisted in his skirts fabric to keep from clawing up the thief here and now.

With the book paid for and wrapped, Pure Vanilla leads them both outside once again. Shadow Milk can feel gazes rake over them, passerby drawn to stare at the ancient hero, and immediately his tolerance for the proximity depletes. He sidles away, turning to face Pure Vanilla with hands clasped before himself, quivering from the sheer effort it takes not to shed this form here and now and take back what's rightfully his.

Pure Vanilla smiles, none the wiser, and holds the packaged book out to Shadow Milk. There's nothing to make Shadow Milk take it, no real reason not to turn and make his way into the nearest shadow, leaving the cookie behind to stand awkwardly with his kindness rejected. No reason other than the act Shadow Milk was supposed to keep up, and the uncertainty of whether Pure Vanilla has actually seen through it or not. There is no reason he should have. This is just… his baffling kindness, the sweetness he extends to any cookie he happens to meet. He is not capable of seeing past Shadow Milk's deception so easily. Can't be.

Shadow Milk takes the book with a strained smile, quickly shoving it in his basket and letting the shadows swallow it up. “Would you like to–” Pure Vanilla starts to say, as Shadow Milk tucks the kerchief in his basket back into place, only for them to be interrupted by a quick shout.

They both turn to look at the newly scuffed up form of Hollyberry Cookie, clearly done settling the scuffle Shadow Milk had thought would serve to keep Pure Vanilla occupied. “So this is where you went! Almost thought you'd been snatched away by some over-eager market cookies.” Hollyberry laughs, coming to a stop before glancing over Shadow Milk with a friendly smile. “And who's this lovely young woman? A new friend?” She offers a hand, not an offer Shadow Milk really wants to take up, but he has an act to upkeep. “Hollyberry Cookie, if you couldn’t guess! And you are?”

“Yogurt Swirl Cookie, Ma'am.” He says, fidgeting uncomfortably once more before reluctantly accepting the handshake. Her grip is too firm and the shake jolts his entire body with the force, and he is quick to yank himself out of her grasp. His irritation isn't helped by the quiet, muffled laughter from Pure Vanilla. “While it's been, uhm, lovely to meet you both, I have to be going. My wards will be waiting for me, and we have more shopping to do!”

“Oh, really?” Hollyberry says, tutting loudly. “That's a shame! Any friend of Vanilla's is a friend of mine, I'd have loved to get to know you better!”

Pure Vanilla smiles at her, a warm fond thing that's utterly sickening, before placing his gaze back on Shadow Milk. “Why not stay a bit longer? Your children could certainly join us. Hollyberry and I were just browsing the market ourselves, it wouldn't be out of our way at all if you were to continue your errands while we chat.”

Shadow Milk glances away, hunching his shoulders and placing a loosely closed fist over his chest. “I'm not sure…” He trails off, smiling wryly. “You surely have better things to do, and my wards,” he carefully strains the word, just so Pure Vanilla doesn't get any ideas, “are a bit difficult to manage.”

“I think it's a great idea!” Hollyberry asserts, overly enthusiastic given she was talking to a stranger. “And I know a thing or two about wrangling children, believe me! It would probably be easier with three sets of hands, right?”

Shadow Milk can feel his eye start to twitch. “Maybe so, but–”

“Yogurt Swirl Cookie!” A shrill voice shouts, yet another interruption Shadow Milk doesn't appreciate, but he can't be annoyed for too long. After all, the little cookie burrowing her face into his side and clinging to him so tightly does provide an irrefutable means of escape. “I got the things on the list you asked for! And I did it way before Grape Pip Cookie finished his! I get a reward, huh?! That's what you promised! Let's go, let's go, let's go!”

Candy Apple Cookie, or rather for today Apple Seed Cookie, dons a rather simple disguise of an illusion to dye her hair black with twin “braids” of threaded apple seeds, another to hide her wings, and a very nice red bouffant dress decorated with her false identities namesake at the hem and waist. She looks a completely different cookie like this, almost noble, but you can't erase some quirks through changing appearance alone. Still, she remembered to use their false names, so she's doing fine enough. Any good housemaid deserves the admiration of her wards, anyways, so her enthusiasm is not out of character.

Shadow Milk smiles, rests a hand atop her head before turning to the ancients. Her timing was impeccable. “Well, I suppose I'll have to take my leave now. I do hope you don't find my abrupt departure rude.” Or do find it rude, actually. If he could make any of the ancients mildly annoyed that'd be a small win he's eager to take. Hollyberry isn't his to crumble, after all.

“Not at all! We know how kids are.” Hollyberry chuckles fondly, before slinging an arm over Pure Vanilla's shoulder again. His smile is too fond to be pointed at a stranger. It makes Shadow Milk's blood boil.

“You're quite fine. I hope to see you again, Miss Swirl.” Pure Vanilla says, raising a hand to cover his heart. It's a disgusting little sentiment Shadow Milk will be happy to ignore entirely.

“You never know!” Shadow Milk responds, with a flash of a smile, before turning to wander off back into the market crowds with Candy Apple still stubbornly clung to his side. “You are definitely getting a reward, hot chocolate again?” He asks, quick to cover his ears at the ensuing squeal. The other market-goers aren't so lucky, but that's their problem. “Let's find Grape Pip and get out of here.”

He can just go somewhere else later if they're missing anything. He just wants to leave before anything else goes wrong.

Chapter Text

“Ah! You're back.” Shadow Milk blinks open his eyes, wincing at the sudden brightness, taking in his surroundings slowly. Pure Vanilla sits at a table, watching him expectantly and holding an open book by the spine. It takes little time to identify the locale as being the Vanilla Kingdom once more– the castle is very familiar– and even less to recognize that, of all places, they are in the castle library.

Shadow Milk sneers, crossing his arms as he hovers in place, glaring at the shelves with open disgust. “I think I'll be leaving, actually.” He says, well aware that the constraints of the dream means he's stuck here until Pure Vanilla decides it's time for a scene change. But if he can egg the other into one, which he is perfectly capable of doing, then it's not a pointless endeavor. He turns to the doorway, ready to leave, expecting Pure Vanilla to follow– why wouldn't he, if his goal were to “befriend” the beast?

“Why don't you stay? We hardly had any time to talk at the market.” Pure Vanilla says, giving Shadow Milk pause. He glances at Pure Vanilla, the overconfident fool, grimaces at his soft teasing smile.

“What market? I don't know what you're referring to, I was in my spire all day.” Shadow Milk responds, lies slipping easily from his tongue as he turns to completely face his other half. He lets his arms hang free in the air, levels a bored expression to ensure Pure Vanilla doesn't realize exactly how caught off guard by that statement he was. “Did you get confused because you saw some other blue blob in your general vicinity?”

“I will admit, your appearance gave me pause. You are certainly quite skilled at disguises, if I only had my staff to rely on I may have fallen for it.” So that at least confirms that Pure Vanilla can see again. How disappointing. “But our Soul Jams are linked. You can't hide that.”

Ah. Of course, the same neat little trick that had told Shadow Milk to prepare for his appearance had given away his own. How delightful.

“My Soul Jam, is broken.” Shadow Milk hisses. “They are not ours and they are not linked. It simply wants to be whole again, and someday, someday soon, you will be unable to stop me from taking it back.”

“Maybe so.” Pure Vanilla hums, infuriatingly unbothered, smile unwavering. “However did you come up with Yogurt Swirl Cookie, if I may ask? It's certainly a clever method to hide in plain sight, but you tend to prefer standing out. I doubt anyone other than me could have connected a more extravagant character to you either, so why choose a house servant?”

“You may not ask.” Shadow Milk responds huffily, crossing his arms. “My machinations are well beyond what a feeble old man like you could comprehend, anyhow. She fulfills a purpose, and that's all.” Shadow Milk glares at Pure Vanilla, leaning back in the air and crossing an ankle over his knee. “Here's a better question, actually; if you thought Yogurt Swirl was me, why did you pester her to join you so incessantly?” It's a question that, now that he's thought of it, bothers him.

“We only ever spend time together in my dreams. When I saw an opportunity to, well,” Pure Vanilla makes air quotes with his fingers, “make my dreams reality,” he laughs softly. “I couldn't help myself. I apologize for being a tad pushy, in retrospect.” He folds his hands together in front of himself, eyes slightly squinted with his fond regard. “I was so happy to see you, I forgot to be considerate.”

Shadow Milk scoffs, rolling his eyes. Happy, to see him? What a blatant, pointless lie. Predictable, too. Pure Vanilla could do better than that. “Sure, that's what that was.” He mutters under his breath, shaking his head furiously. “A tad pushy is an understatement. You accosted a poor young housemaid in a bookshop and then blatantly ignored her attempts to dismiss herself. Not to mention, you forced me to take a book.” Shadow Milk mimes a shudder, voice thick with disgust.

Pure Vanilla, the dolt, misses these details. He hears mentions of a book and immediately perks up, smiling bright and wide.

“Have you read that book yet? I'm eager to hear your thoughts on it.” Shadow Milk drifts closer, scowling when Pure Vanilla pulls the chair beside him out a bit. He stubbornly refuses that clear invitation.

“I tore it to pieces the moment we returned to the spire.” Shadow Milk lies, closing his eyes haughtily. “I don't read. Books are detestable items and not worth the paper they're printed on.” Just so Pure Vanilla didn't try to suggest a different one, if he were fool enough to believe the problem was merely that it was a bad recommendation.

“Oh…” Pure Vanilla says, voice soft with disappointment, and Shadow Milk cracks an eye open to see his head hang. The frown on his face sends a strange feeling through Shadow Milk's chest. He waves it off. He was supposed to be causing Pure Vanilla distress. No need to think about it as any more than fulfilling their roles here. “Well, I suppose I wouldn't want to make you do anything you'd rather not. I'm… glad I did get to finally give you a gift, though. As short-lived as that may have been.” He chuckles, though it's weak.

Shadow Milk frowns. “Why do you care so much? Think that I'll buy into your pretty little lies of kindness and friendship if you give me enough trinkets?” He asks, drifting lower to meet Pure Vanilla's downturned eyes. He's only about an inch above the table this way, almost laying atop it. He must look ridiculous. Whatever. He wants Pure Vanilla to at least look him in the eyes when he lies to him. Have some bravado, some gall.

Pure Vanilla blinks, his sad pathetic little expression giving way to surprise. “I… I do want to be your friend.” He says, as earnest as ever. He's good at that, Shadow Milk's found. He's almost as good a liar as Shadow Milk himself– truly a shame he gave all of that up, decided to play a trick most foul on the one soul that could have stayed by his side for all of eternity. Well. It's his loss, Shadow Milk could not care less.

Shadow Milk slips away again, rising in the air to look down on Pure Vanilla with a bored frown. Pure Vanilla's gaze follows him. That sweet, earnest expression is nearly blinding. “I mean it sincerely, Shadow Milk. I want to be your friend, it was not an offer made out of any intent to deceive.” He stands, pushing himself out of his seat with his hands on the table, brow furrowing out of some determined desire to sell this lie. “Even if you won't call me a friend, I will still treat you as one. I will spend time with you, as I enjoy your company. I will give you gifts, because I appreciate your presence. Even if you try to spurn me, I have seen your heart. I know you–”

There it is. Again. That most putrid lie.

Shadow Milk sneers, immediately falling down onto the table, feeling it crack and splinter under the force of his landing. Pure Vanilla's eyes blow wide, stumbling back as Shadow Milk seethes. He can feel the shadows grow, creeping over to cover the windows and blanket the room in darkness, feel his hair start to flow like thick sludge and writhe like headless snakes, feel his control slip as he strides forward, each step splintering the table more and more before it shatters. He barely feels the shattered slivers as they pierce his clothes and dig into his dough. He drives Pure Vanilla back until he stumbles into a shelf, his path blocked on either side by the growing inky tendrils of shadows seeping from Shadow Milk's form. Eyes open wherever the darkness is thickest, watching the scene progress with an insatiable hunger for retribution.

Pure Vanilla gasps as shadows latch onto his arm and bind him to the shelf, whipping his head around in fear as the other arm is similarly bound. There is no egress, no escape– Shadow Milk stops with their faces inches apart, just so Pure Vanilla can not avoid it, can not remain unseeing, can not ignore exactly how much Shadow Milk loathes him.

“You know nothing but the sweet lies you tell yourself.” Shadow Milk hisses, hand landing a blow with a splintering crack at the shelf beside Pure Vanilla's head, feeling a thrum of pleasure at the way his other half flinches. The fear on Pure Vanilla's face is exactly the expression he's been missing, the reaction he'd set out to find since the start of this entire endeavor. “You understand nothing. I am not some sad little thing that’s lost its way, not some pitiful creature crumbling from sheer loneliness, not someone who needs saving. You can delude yourself otherwise, feed your compulsion to play hero all you like, but I will not play along with that little game.”

“Shadow Milk–” Pure Vanilla starts, cutting himself off with a gasp as Shadow Milk’s other hand slams into the shelf, effectively caging Pure Vanilla in.

“Or maybe, acting like it’s for my sake is just another lie!” Shadow Milk cackles, hair tendrils thrashing wildly behind him and eyes crazed, tossing his head back with the force. When the laughter stops, he presses closer again, almost nose to nose with Pure Vanilla as he snarls. “Admit it. You don't want my friendship. You want to contain me. You want me docile at your heels, up until you can seal me in that damned tree again.”

Pure Vanilla stares back, eyes wide and breath shaky, but he has no retort. There isn’t anything he can say to deny it. Shadow Milk knows, very well, that he's hit the proverbial nail on the head. Friendship is a kind lie, but a lie nonetheless. It's a means to control others, to use them until they have nothing useful to give anymore, nothing more and nothing less. Shadow Milk is well aware.

“You do not understand me.” He growls, eyes narrowed to slits, teeth bared to show sharp fangs. He is not another sheep eager to stumble blindly at Pure Vanilla's heels, he is not a fool ready to leap at an offer of friendship by someone who had betrayed him and lied to him. There is nothing Pure Vanilla can do or say that will change that.

He grabs the Soul Jam Pure Vanilla wears, the half he'd stolen, and pulls. It's a pointless endeavor to take it in dreams– it does nothing for him, nothing but provides the gratifying feeling of having taken back what belongs to him and him alone, a feeling he craves now more than ever. He pulls, and he expects taking it to be easy. It should be easy.

But the stubborn thing stays. It stays no matter how hard he pulls, no matter if he uses both hands instead of just one, no matter how he can feel that it wants to go with him, return where it belongs, join its other half–

A pair of gentle hands clasp over his own. Heat blooms where the touch connects, searing invisible yet unerasable marks on his dough, the hum of connection echoed by his own Soul Jam. It's unexpected. Impossible. Shadow Milk didn't release him, but clearly it's happened regardless.

Shadow Milk looks up and meets Pure Vanilla's gaze. It is sharp, firm, determined. There is no hint of fear or hesitation, no sight of the trembling cookie he was mere moments ago. Pure Vanilla squeezes his hands tightly, closes his eyes and dips his head, touching their foreheads together and giving Shadow Milk no room to escape.

“Maybe, I do not know you.” He says, voice quiet but no less firm. Shadow Milk freezes, breathing heavily, feels the shadows recede all too quickly, sees the light return almost as if Pure Vanilla was once again the one to produce it. He may be. “Maybe I don't, yet. Not entirely. But I would like to. If you would let me.” Pure Vanilla opens his eyes again, offering a small smile more scalding than freshly made hot chocolate.

Shadow Milk growls again, a vicious retort on the tip of his tongue, but Pure Vanilla only needs to say one word to wither it away into silence.

“Please.”

He can feel his stomach turn, feel heat rise to his cheeks, feel the illness Pure Vanilla inflicted upon him rear its ugly face once more. Pure Vanilla looks at him, soft and pleading, and it makes the rage slippery and hard to grasp. Despite how he tries, despite wanting desperately to cling to a more welcomed feeling and act along a familiar script, the pages fall beyond his reach.

Curse that cookie. What has he done to him? Shadow Milk has never before felt so weak.

He lets go of the Soul Jam, tears himself away. He turns his back to Pure Vanilla, desperate not to look at him. He says nothing, wordlessly returns to the shattered table, sits at the chair Pure Vanilla had pulled out for him at the start of the dream. He can feel Pure Vanilla’s gaze follow him, feel the light chase away the chill his shadows had wrought. He crosses his arms, his last defiant act to show his discontent, and ignores Pure Vanilla's quiet thank you.

This is just because it's a dream. This is just because he’s already pushed the bounds too much. Just because he can't risk discovery, risk being blocked out.

It means nothing.

Chapter Text

The book haunts him, but he can't bring himself to be rid of it.

It's there every time he wakes up, on the same shelf as the plush Pure Vanilla he'd made on impulse when warm fire and rejected drink was buzzing incessantly in his mind. Both items are worthless to him, better off torn to shreds or burned or simply gone, but instead they sit, on a shelf level to where his bed floats, to taunt him after every dream.

It's been days. Days of sleeping, dreaming, and waking up only to see that damned book. Days of nights where he didn't sleep at all and that book still sat, almost judgmentally, on that shelf. He hasn't even read the title, but he knows– oh, he knows– he hates it.

And yet, it stays. He glares at it when his eyes flutter open, and scowls at it moments before they close, but he never lifts a single finger to be rid of it. It'd be infinitesimally simple, there wouldn't even need to be a full thought and it'd be nothing but a hated memory among many others. But it stays.

Today, when he opens his eyes, it taunts him just as any other. Today, when he rolls out of bed to get breakfast started, he takes it with him. He just wants it out of his room, anywhere else but that shelf, he wants to stop seeing it and stop thinking about it. One of the kitchens will have to hold it for now. If it gets lost forever, then so be it. Good riddance, actually.

The market trip had been a successful venture, so much so that even with nearly a week having passed they still had plenty of food and no need to gather more. Candy Apple and Black Sapphire had seen to it to make their tasks a competition, and took double what was ordered. Shadow Milk had applauded their efforts, glad to see them take initiative that far, and now he didn't need to feel the waste of making a third plate.

He tosses the book on a counter without looking, hears it land with one solid thud and knows that it is still perfectly unruffled, moves along to pots and pans to root though and decide what, exactly, he planned to make. His awareness of the book is constant, but it's pushed to the far reaches of his mind as he decides that once again pancakes will have to do. He'd make something else, but they're Candy Apple's current favorite, and she's been working hard lately.

He grimaces, rubbing between his eyes as the thought comes to him. Ugh. He's going soft. This whole rewarding the help thing was going too far. He sighs, summoning a mixing bowl with a snap of his fingers.

Well. It’s a sunk cost, he's already invested too much into this, and the returns he's seeing aren't terrible. They're both certainly much happier. Easier to work with that than the alternative.

He reaches into the cabinets blindly, no need to worry about where ingredients are stored when all of them are still in the same shadowy void-space they were placed into when they'd originally stolen them. It's fortunate that of the many spells and quirks that build the spire into what it is, this was not one of the ones broken in the wake of brilliant light. Having to actually figure out how to store everything properly, how to divide the storage throughout fifteen different kitchens to make them all usable, would have been a puzzle not worth the effort.

He's well practiced in these motions, even after all the years where exercising his culinary skills and displaying his prowess was impossible to the nth degree. When you are crafted to hold all the knowledge of the world, you don't really lose the skills you learn. He’s a natural talent as well, so that doesn’t hurt.

His mind is lost among thoughts of measurements and tricks to make the batter sweeter and cook fluffier. As he lights the stove, he recounts exactly how to ensure a perfectly even, perfectly golden brown crust every time. When he conjures a spatula to flip the first pancake, he remembers exactly the angle and speed to approach to keep from breaking it mid-motion.

His mind also tries to wander into recollection of how he learned all these things, sugar-sweet memories dusted in flour and echoing with fond laughter, but he kills those thoughts there before they can bloom. They’re both pointless to linger on and useless to keep.

He’s about halfway through cooking up all the batter when the first of his fellow residents arrives. “Good Morning, Master Shadow Milk.” Black Sapphire greets, a rarity that he's the first awake. He doesn't sound particularly groggy either, for how early it must be for him. Shadow Milk's is immediately curious, and he turns with his trademark grin to set a plate down for Black Sapphire.

“And a good morning to you as well, my loyal minion!” He says, floating over a pitcher of juice. They've learned that grape juice doesn't set Candy Apple off as much as others, so now they get to have full glasses once more. It doesn't hurt that it's the one Black Sapphire enjoyed most, either. “You seem to be quite put together today! Been awake long?”

“Just wanted an early start! The rumor mill over in the Hollyberry kingdom has gotten quite interesting.” Black Sapphire chuckles, crossing a leg over his knee as he sits at the table. “I have an audience ready and eager to hear only the most fresh, juicy rumors, and I've kept them waiting long enough!” He preens, practically sparkling from the vain pride he exudes.

“Sounds like you've got a busy busy day ahead!” Shadow Milk pushes a bowl of cut up fruit his way, placing his hands on his hips once Black Sapphire has taken it. “Wanna give me a sneak peek at your little show?”

Black Sapphire's wings flutter, a habit both he and Candy Apple couldn't seem to break, a dead giveaway that the attention Shadow Milk graciously bestowed on them is appreciated. “You can always request an early showing!”

“Wait for me!” Candy Apple shouts as she makes her sudden appearance, practically launching herself into her chair, eyes narrowed as she turns to Black Sapphire. “You can't take all of my sweet Shadow Milk's attention so early!! When am I supposed to get any?!” She huffs. Black Sapphire glares at her, crossing his arms.

“Well, maybe if you had anything worth sharing,” Black Sapphire retorts. Candy Apple sticks her tongue out at him, and it doesn't take a genius to see exactly where this is going.

“Hey, calm it down. Save the bickering for when I'm out of earshot, got it?” Shadow Milk grins, placing down Candy Apple's breakfast before turning to sit on the counter with his own. “Now, Saph, tell me. What fresh rumors are you twisting today, hm?”

Black Sapphire holds Candy Apple's glare for a few seconds more before turning back to Shadow Milk, eager to share and determined to prove his value. Also probably eager to rub his success in obtaining their dear Master’s full attention in Candy Apple’s face. Both are probably of equal value in his mind. “Well, there's actually a curious little rumor buzzing around about a certain ancient we've happened to host not long ago~” Black Sapphire chuckles, seemingly already aware that that alone would pique Shadow Milk's interest.

“A rumor about old Nilly, huh?” Shadow Milk asks, setting his plate aside for a moment in order to prop his arms on his knees, chin in his palms. Black Sapphire sits up straighter at the clear interest, eyes shimmering with cheer. “Go on, go on! Don't leave your audience waiting! I’m practically crumbling from anticipation!”

“Yes, yes, there's a rumor going about that Pure Vanilla was seen entertaining a fair young woman!” Black Sapphire announces, seemingly none-the-wiser to the way Shadow Milk froze at that statement. “My sources state that onlookers were stunned to see the old hero exiting a store with a woman on his arm, a seemingly ordinary house servant at that! No one was close enough to hear their exchange, but many sources say that it was obvious to anyone with eyes that they were enamoured with each other.”

Shadow Milk keeps his grin plastered on, even as a chill settles over him. “Anything more?” He asks, voice thick with false cheer, a talented liar to the end. The pair don't even notice.

“Hollyberry also arrived on the scene, seemingly to spirit Pure Vanilla away for some event they were to attend, and it seems that the housemaid was largely uncomfortable with her presence. Perhaps she was upset that their date got cut short? Or envious that Pure Vanilla would choose his friend over her? There’s an entire sea of potential explanations to explore.” Black Sapphire chuckles. Candy Apple suddenly got a weird look on her face, all scrunched up like she was thinking a thought that refused to come together. “But all accounts do recall that Pure Vanilla gave his lady a gift before they parted! Most suspect it was a book, as they were spotted leaving a relatively new bookshop–”

Shadow Milk suddenly feels the chill overtaken by a fervent searing heat, as he realizes what exactly is going on here. How, how… repugnant, how disgusting, that such a rumor was being spread. Shadow Milk keeps his grin plastered in place even as he sits up, stretches, and floats off the counter.

“Oh, well, I don't see what we can do with that.” Shadow Milk interrupts, hardly aware Black Sapphire had still been speaking. He’s much too busy taking up his untouched plate of food and placing it between Black Sapphire and Candy Apple, patting them both on the head before making his way to the door, to notice paltry details like that. “Good work, though, on finding that little nugget! Interesting to hear what fascinating lies cookies can cook up without our generous guidance!”

Black Sapphire frowns, wings drooping slightly as he watches Shadow Milk with open confusion. “But, Master–”

“I'm serious! I'm glad you keep your ear to the ground, but not everything can be a solid chunk of golden deceit, sometimes you get a few blocks of fool's gold along the way!” He laughs, high and manic. “Easy to mistake the two, this is why I am the master and you are the minions, after all! You'll find something even better in no time!” And with that, Shadow Milk leaves, slamming the door behind him without giving either of his precious devotees a chance to react. In his newfound solitude, he lets out a pained groan, rubbing his temple as if to soothe a headache that didn’t exist.

Really. A “date”. Pah. That was the fool tracking down and cornering an unfortunate victim, strong-arming them into going along with his silly whims until he was forced by circumstance to release them. How little do cookies nowadays need in order to jump to these bafflingly wrong conclusions?!

What a waste, too. Any other day a rumor like that could be twisted into something capable of absolutely ruining a cookie, if it were anyone else involved they could have used that foundation to create a scandal so large it would have rippling effects enough to topple an entire noble house! But Shadow Milk wants nothing to do with a rumor reliant on him playing the fancied damsel on Pure Vanilla's arm. How utterly repugnant.

Through the closed door he can hear muffled voices, Candy Apple's voice in particular piercing enough he could likely make out the words if he really tries. His head aches, however, and he doesn't particularly care enough to monitor whatever conclusions they'll jump to. He grimaces; it certainly wasn't his best work, if he had simply quelled his initial reaction he could have salvaged something out of that.

What's done is done. Hardly matters now. His minions aren't the sort to question him anyhow.

He leaves, letting the twisting halls of the spire lead him to wherever they thought he'd find the most entertainment. He certainly needs a breather after hearing something like that. What a wonderful start to his day.

Chapter Text

Routine as anything now, Shadow Milk blinks open his eyes and braces for light.

Now that Pure Vanilla is back in his kingdom, he dreams of little else. For a cookie so well-travelled, his imagination isn't very creative with settings. When it is not his kingdom, it is one of his friends’, or it's a simple nondescript place that doesn't really exist. Both of those, though, were rarities.

Tonight, it seems, is another rare night. One where Shadow Milk doesn't have to tolerate an assault on his eyes from the light. Although, he'd almost prefer it. The kingdom of faeries is not a place he was fond of, for very good reason.

At the very least it's empty of the aforementioned faeries, if simply because that's the nature of this particular spell. He'd have to be concerned if one of them were to show up– he'd either be drawing in uninvited guests, or they'd have intruded of their own accord. Either way it would most certainly be a complication he doesn’t want to deal with.

But no, thankfully. There are only two souls in this dream, just as there are every night. Pure Vanilla sits just outside the kingdom’s gates with his back against one of the terrifically detestable trees a few feet from the path, a closed book in his lap and head bowed. His staff rests on the ground beside him, easily in reach but not in position to be used. Even in dreams he can not see without it, but he hardly seems to use it. It's one of those little things, one of those confusing little patterns Shadow Milk can't make sense of. Everything has a meaning in a dream, but if there is one to be found here, it's not worth the time it's taking to puzzle it out.

It's easier in this dream, at least, to know why his staff is in a useless position. Pure Vanilla cookie was dreaming of having a pleasant nap in a place he felt safe. Why would he need to have an eye ready to use?

Shadow Milk settles himself beside him, though he's careful to ensure there's space between them. Not enough, clearly, as Pure Vanilla seems to acknowledge his presence with a wordless shift, resting his head on Shadow Milk's shoulder with a soft sigh. He's far too brazen, after that little stunt in the library dream. Then again, it's not as if in the past week Shadow Milk has done anything to give him pause.

Still, cuddling up to a Beast? In the land of his greatest ally against them? Dream or not, Pure Vanilla is certainly much more a fool than he seems.

“You need to learn a little something about personal space.” Shadow Milk grumbles, leaning his head back against the tree. He glares up at the spindly boughs and imagines setting the whole place ablaze, razing it to the ground with cackling glee.

One day, perhaps. If the other beasts don't get to it first. He doesn't have a single clue what they're up to nowadays. He hasn't made an effort to check since this whole plan started, and it doesn't seem his absence has been noticed quite yet. Or maybe they don't care. Wouldn't be strange if that was it.

Shadow Milk scowls, briefly, but a hand gently curling around his upper arm breaks him out of those thoughts. His frown may not leave, but he does relax. Just in case Pure Vanilla tries to pester him about it. He has an annoying habit of pretending to be concerned when he senses Shadow Milk's worse moods.

“You could always leave.” Pure Vanilla responds, simply shifting closer. It's uncomfortable, the contact scalding, but not anything he hasn't slowly grown accustomed to. Pure Vanilla is very touchy, he's learned. He wasn't so when he was Truthless Recluse. It's… something of note. “And you're one to talk.”

Shadow Milk glances down, to see Pure Vanilla looking up at him with one eye open and a teasing smile. Shadow Milk rolls his eyes and goes back to glaring at the trees. It's easier. It doesn't bring nearly as much heat to his face.

Get it together, you fool. He bites his tongue, brow furrowing further as he crosses his arms, just to keep them close, just to try to shake off the gentle touch. At the very least to pretend it doesn’t affect him.

This temporary peace isn't meant to last. He's simply proving a point. Pure Vanilla wants to know him? He wants to prove he understands? Well, he'll have to try a lot harder. Shadow Milk is not his friend and never will be.

He can afford biding his time for this little game Pure Vanilla started. When it comes time to act– well, he will not hesitate. He doesn't care about anything more than getting his Soul Jam back. He doesn't care about Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla seems to accept his lack of response, doesn't say anything more. He lets out a content sigh, leaning more of his weight into Shadow Milk's side, close enough so that if Shadow Milk was really paying him any attention he would be able to feel the rise and fall of each breath. With an empty kingdom, save for the light winds carding through the leaves, it is silent. Peaceful, one could say.

Shadow Milk isn't a fan of peace and quiet. It's stifling, too reminiscent of days spent with nothing to do and nothing to see, back when he was trapped in that accursed tree. He thinks that even before then the quiet used to disturb him, but certainly now it was downright agonizing. And seeing as Pure Vanilla clearly wasn't in the mood to talk, that leaves filling it up to him.

“Hear any interesting rumors lately?” He asks, mostly because he can't exactly think of anything else particularly safe to speak of. You have to preserve the integrity of the dream you're in, if pretending to be a figment of it. And, frankly, he's not inclined to test the bounds today. He's lucky enough the stunt a week ago didn't get him caught, he's not pushing it.

Pure Vanilla turns his head, turning to hide his face in Shadow Milk's shoulder with a tired groan. His hand briefly squeezes where it still holds Shadow Milk's arm, almost admonishing. It's quite an interesting reaction, and telling too.

“Of course you've heard of it too.” He says, and Shadow Milk can't help but grin. He doesn't like that particular rumor himself, but if it makes Pure Vanilla this miserable there's some fun to be had.

“My followers are diligent little workers that keep their ears to the ground for this sort of thing! There's not ever a new rumor that I don't know of. We are the source of most of them, you know!” Shadow Milk responds cheerfully, jostling his shoulder enough to get Pure Vanilla to sit up and pull his hand away once more.

The tired frown levelled his way is a delightful little treat, one that almost makes up for the embarrassment he'd been subjected to earlier that day. “I can imagine it's causing you quite the trouble, huh?”

“The teasing is quite relentless.” Pure Vanilla sighs, placing a hand on his cheek forlornly. “Thankfully my friends aren't taking it too seriously, but the teasing at my expense is plentiful. Not to mention, it's spiraling into quite the problem.”

Shadow Milk hums, interest piqued, grinning eagerly as he turns to face Pure Vanilla, tapping a staccato rhythm on his lap in eager anticipation. Pure Vanilla does not disappoint. “One example, according to Hollyberry, is that I have been banned from that bookstore. Indefinitely.”

Shadow Milk can't help the sudden bark of laughter he lets out, before covering his face with both hands. It does nothing to hide his too-wide grin or his clear delight, but it allows him to regain a bit of composure before speaking. “That, is hilarious. Who knew that modern day bookstores would ban you for simply buying their wares?” He giggles some more, cheered on by the tired look Pure Vanilla levels at him for only a second before he turns his head to stare blindly into the distance.

“It's apparently more to do with how crowds are flocking in in an attempt to catch me on another outing. Or, I suppose they're hoping to catch us on an outing?” Pure Vanilla hums thoughtfully, eyes drifting closed again. “For a small store with only one cookie to run it, the sudden popularity is vastly overwhelming.”

“I really need to see that for myself, honestly.” Pure Vanilla frowns at him again, shaking his head with a disappointed sigh. “What? I can't be a little curious?” He snickers at the little pout that appears on Pure Vanilla's face. How silly.

“And how, exactly, do you mean to do that? You'll feed those rumors, they do involve you,” Pure Vanilla asks. And yes, Shadow Milk doesn't really wish for that– they were embarrassing and terrible rumors, and he hated the idea of anyone ever discovering that he was the second party involved in them, but, more importantly, they got on Pure Vanilla's nerves and ended up getting him banned from a store. There's a significant win in that, at the least.

“They're not gonna recognize me from one vague description that can apply to any cookie. Plus I could just attend as someone else, I'm not restricted to one form like you are.” Shadow Milk quickly snaps his fingers, an illusion springing up effortlessly. It's a different trick than shapeshifting, but it gets the point across for the two seconds it needs to hold. “Heck, I could go as myself, even. Start a whole new batch of rumors for you, how about that?”

Pure Vanilla grimaces, placing a hand to his temple as if already imagining the headache that'd cause. “I'd rather you not.” He sighs, once more, shaking his head.

“You sure? It's certainly one way to get people to stop spreading around your little rendezvous with Miss Yogurt Swirl.” Shadow Milk wiggles his fingers, reaching towards him in a playful threat. Pure Vanilla gently smacks down his hands, pout even more thoroughly in place, cheeks reddening.

“I'm certain. Anything you do will make things worse.” He responds, shoulders tensing as Shadow Milk leaned closer, grinning eerily. “If you decide to bother that poor bookshop, I'll have to intervene. And I'd rather not have to.”

He's certainly a far cry from the placid and peaceful Pure Vanilla he's tried to put up throughout these dreams, and though it's not fear on his face, it sends a thrum of delight through Shadow Milk.

Shadow Milk reaches out and squishes Pure Vanilla's cheeks, snickering to himself. “Aw, Nilly, are you embarrassed? Is the idea of people seeing us together so terrible?” He coos, tilting Pure Vanilla's head side to side a few times before he has to break, pulling back and curling his arms around his stomach as he falls back from the force of his laughter.

“I suppose I should have expected this. You're not the sort to take these things seriously.” Pure Vanilla shakes his head once more, but his tone is fond. He watches Shadow Milk come down from his laughing fit with a small smile, radiating light and warmth like a second sun, one the leafy canopy couldn't hide. “And I don't suppose you care for the problems this rumor is causing me?”

“Oh, if there's more, I wanna hear all of it.” Shadow Milk responds, quickly sitting upright once more. His grin is wide as he leans closer, personal space a long forgotten concept, thoroughly invested in getting Pure Vanilla to spill all the sordid little details. “Come on, Nilly, tell me your troubles! Isn't that what friends are for?” He says it mockingly, emphasizing the insincerity, but Pure Vanilla either chooses to ignore it or doesn't hear it.

“I suppose, we are friends. I'll tell you…” Pure Vanilla trails off, before grinning brightly, and poking the tip of Shadow Milk's nose for the barest split second, the touch so light and quick he could have imagined it. “If you come visit me tomorrow.”

Shadow Milk's grin falters, falling into a confused frown, but then the scenery falls away, and he is left blinking open his eyes to see blue walls and a single, mostly-empty shelf.

The plush Pure Vanilla set atop it watches him with judgemental button eyes, taunting him as the warmth of the dream slowly starts to fade away. It's expression is annoyingly aware, smiling as if it knew some silly secret Shadow Milk wasn't privy to. It's annoying.

With a flick of his hand, it turns itself to face the wall.

Chapter Text

Black Sapphire and Candy Apple are late.

Not an unheard of thing, but certainly unusual. Shadow Milk may be a very demanding authority, but he's never really cared to set his minions with any sort of real schedule. They can do as they liked for however long they liked so long as they did as he demanded when he demanded it. So despite them having what could be said was a relatively stable sleep schedule, there's nothing for them to actually adhere to. Normally any deviation from routine is because they're eager to get to work, or they went to bed late because they didn't wish to stop working. Shadow Milk usually learns which case it happens to be pretty swiftly.

It's more odd that they never show up for the breakfast he makes, and sure it could be because they ended up in the wrong kitchen, but he's pretty sure the spire has been leading them to him since this entire routine began. It hardly matters that there are fifteen kitchens when the halls are ever-changing, and whatever thing resembling intelligence that controls it all is often on Shadow Milk's side in matters.

Then again, Black Sapphire and Candy Apple may have stayed long enough to make their own impression on the spire; they may be more capable of navigating through it rather than simply being navigated by it. But then, that still doesn't really explain why they would miss mealtime.

They wouldn't be avoiding him, right? He can't think of any reason they would. If anything he's been needlessly and excessively kind lately.

He doesn't care. Not really. But he'd rather they not waste his time and effort, so he decides after a few minutes more of waiting, about the time it takes for his own serving to be cleared, to bring their breakfasts to them.

He carefully places the bowls and plates on trays, forgoes juice because he supposes some punishment is in order for keeping him waiting, and balances them on his palms easily. The door swings open for him as he sweeps out, and the task of finding his dear assistants begins.

He checks their rooms first, of course, the most logical explanation was that they both had simply chosen to sleep in and forgot their precious Master was expecting them. But there was no one to be found, in either room, even when Shadow Milk checked under the beds!

“Ooookay, weird.” Shadow Milk mutters to himself, brow furrowing as the door to Candy Apple's room swings closed behind him.

This is a strange situation for him. He's never really had to put any effort into finding his minions before. They're normally pretty underfoot, harder to get rid of than anything. He glances down at the trays, the food slowly going cold, and mutters a quick spell to preserve what little heat it had left.

“I guess they felt like playing a little hide-and-seek today! A little rude not to let me know before they started the round, but I'll humor them!” He grins, opening a portal to stow the trays away and free his hands. Hiding in the spire is as simple as taking a few steps; again, the ever-shifting and twining halls and the esoteric architecture makes it impossible to really navigate with purpose. So long as you weren't Shadow Milk, of course.

Still, there are limits to what he can do to influence it, he can't just tell it to lead him to his followers and expect it to actually do such. If he wants to find anything, he has to know what room it's in, and only then will the spire help him get to that specific room. And it takes time, too, for the halls to shift. It used to be quicker, but Pure Vanilla did a real number on the place when he'd made his exit. Shadow Milk couldn't fix everything he broke, as much as he wanted to.

That's not even taking into account if any new rooms had sprung up that he isn't aware of, either. Safe to say, he has his work cut out for him.

If only he'd paid more attention to what they spent their day-to-day doing, or where they went when they were restricted to the spire. He hasn't a clue where to be looking; for cookies he'd practically built, he sure doesn't know them well. He hasn't had much of a need to.

So he takes his time, checking every room he remembers existing, stumbling into ones he didn't remember, perhaps accidentally making new ones as well. He checks the balconies, the outer stairs, the inner stairs, the battlements and the very top of the roof. He checks every floating path he can think of, and even the decrepit library that he didn't even think they knew existed, that he almost managed to forget about. He checks every place he can think of and even the places he can't, and yet.

Nothing.

No sign of anyone.

The idea of their usual routine is far in the back of his mind now, replaced by a prevailing sense of… something. Something that makes his heart race and his palms feel clammy, something that makes him shiver in the cold of the spire like he's never done before.

He refuses to acknowledge it, any of it. It's fine. He's fine. They won't be gone for long, if they're even gone at all! They're just really good at this game, he's just overlooking something, surely.

Maybe they had said something before they parted ways last night? A plan that necessitated they leave early and be gone all day? Was he even listening if they had? Who is he kidding, of course he wasn't listening if he doesn't remember! He's got a perfect memory!

They haven't left. They'll be back. He shouldn't care so much. He doesn't. He doesn't care. He's just bored. He's bored of this game, bored of them. He'll find something else to do.

You do have a book to read. A voice chimes in his head, one sounding suspiciously like Pure Vanilla, and he grits his teeth at the thought. It's true, though, that the book would occupy his time. He doesn't even have to read it. He could tear out the pages, use them to make puppets or paper dolls. Yes. That's what he'll do. He's left it on the shelf, right? He didn't see it when he woke up, actually. Maybe it fell. It couldn't have left his room unless he moved it, after all.

After reaching a hand through a portal to snatch some apple slices, it's not stealing if they never received their meals, he makes his way back down the winding halls to his room. The apple is crisp and the crunch pleasant, each bite helping to distract his mind from incessant and annoying thoughts about where they could possibly be.

It doesn't matter. They're normally outside of the spire at this time anyways. He doesn't care. They'll be back.

His room is just as empty as he'd left it, he double checks just in case they decided to ignore his threats to stay out and hide there, but no. Just his bed, his useless furniture, and his shelf– his shelf.

Now, he distinctly remembers leaving a certain plush on that shelf. He'd even interacted with it just that morning. So if that were the case, then why isn't it there? Did it somehow grow a soul and leave him too?!?

He takes a breath in and holds it, clenching his fists for a moment before releasing both his breath and the tension in his frame in one go.

No. He knows he's making a bigger deal out of nothing, jumping to bizarre and illogical conclusions because he's already wound up. He needs to stop for a moment and actually think. Impulse is fine and dandy when playing games, but he is smarter than to be controlled by it. He can figure this out. He is the ex-Fount of Knowledge, after all, and there's nothing that can escape his eyes.

Now. Why would his plush be missing? Clearly, someone had to move it. He knew it hadn't been him, because the last time he'd touched it was just to turn it to face the wall. It hasn't fallen, because otherwise he'd have found it when searching the room.

That said, he also knows it's not in his room at all, for the very same reason. So, clearly, someone had to have taken it. The question of who and why hardly matters, save for the fact that the only two who could have would be Candy Apple or Black Sapphire, and neither of them were anywhere to be found.

Why would they have taken it, though? Especially from his room, when they know they're not meant to step a single foot inside. Is that why they never showed up for breakfast? Because they knew the room would be empty, and that was their chance? But that made no sense to him, there's nothing here. The rule is more a paltry measure to keep them from interrupting his work, there's no other substance to it than that. And why would they risk his wrath like that? He's threatened to crumble them over less!

Shadow Milk grips his hair and growls, biting into his cheek hard enough to taste his own sweet jam. This is pointless! He may be a genius but there's just nothing to use. You can't build a puzzle with none of the pieces!

How irritating.

He's back to square one. Given his book isn't even here, either, he has to come up with something else to fill his time. The book should have been–! Not here, actually. He slumps, crossing his arms as he remembers.

Right. He'd ditched it in a kitchen. He could, probably, find it pretty easily. There's only fifteen rooms to check.

It's more feasible than finding any other answers, for now. It's something to do, too. So with one final frustrated groan, he sweeps out of his room, slamming the door behind him. He'll have to make a lock for it later.

Chapter Text

It's nice to get a break from work, even if not much of one. They’re rare enough as is, so he takes what he can from it. It would be a lie to say he doesn’t mind, exactly, but he cares more about how it affects his friends rather than himself. He doesn’t need to rest, but they like seeing him around, and he likes to see them. If not for that, his schedule being as packed as ever would not be any problem. He doesn’t need much. This, really, is enough.

Shadow Milk stands with glass in hand, fragrant wine tantalizing as he swirls it thoughtfully, contemplating the rich and deep red color. Around him cookies enjoy their revelry, cheering and drinking and dancing with reckless abandon. By every technicality this is a “research” trip, but of course he has gotten quite skilled at multitasking. Necessary for his role. Warping the purpose of this visit was the only way he could justify leaving his tower to accept her invitation, anyhow.

“Can't imagine you're having much fun just standing there.” He glances up, catching sight of a familiar pink figure. He smiles, it's been too long really, and stills his hand for a moment.

“This is the ideal position to see everything.” He responds, gesturing loosely with his free hand before taking a sip of the wine. It's bitter, definitely not as fruity as he'd been promised, and he can taste hints of the oak barrel it had been stored in. For being the drink of choice, it's not a particularly good one. His opinion hardly matters, though; he's meant to take notes of the traditions and festivities today, not pass judgement. “I'm enjoying myself plenty.”

“You're working.” She responds, looping her arm with his and lightly tugging. “Come on, you haven't seen everyone in a long while. They've missed you!” Shadow Milk feels his smile twitch, threatening to fall. Have they? That feels… wrong, somehow. But it must be true. After all, they're friends. He's never had reason to doubt.

“I suppose a more active approach would do my research a favor.” He responds, receiving a sugar-sweet giggle in response. He allows her to drag him through the crowd, smiles and greets every cookie that pauses in their revelry to greet him. There's no questions tonight, everyone much too busy for that. It's a pleasant break, even if fleeting.

“Of course, of course. There's not a single moment you're not studying something, is there?” He receives a nudge to his side, lighthearted and teasing. “Silly, that's what it is.”

“I like to learn.” What he doesn't already know is a gap he's keen on closing, he derives a lot of joy in finding something truly new. Nevermind that it's his purpose; even if he didn't have the title, he'd likely pursue knowledge for eternity regardless. There is always something to learn, as time passed and cookies formed and fell societies, as new technologies were developed and forgotten. He'd never run out of entertainment. “Do you not enjoy your work?”

“My work is enjoyment, Blue. Where would I be if I didn't?” She giggles, suddenly stopping and turning him to face her. “We have a game going.” She whispers, with a secretive grin and shimmering eyes. Her feathers fluff behind her, wings fluttering for a moment before falling still once more. Her excitement is obvious to anyone with eyes, a contagious malady Shadow Milk doesn't mind in the least.

“A game?” He grins, already eager to hear more. It's been quite a while since they've invited him to join a game. It’s been quite a while since he’s seen them in order to be invited to join a game. His fault, mostly. “What are the rules?”

“It's a game of chance and fortune, so don't think you can win so easily this time!” They wink, grabbing him by the hands and tugging him back into motion once again. “The rules are simple! Last one standing wins.” Shadow Milk laughs, bubbly and warm.

“That’s not a game of chance! You are always the last one standing at your parties.” His dear Caster Sugar flaps her wings, rising into the air and pulling him along with her. The trick of the mind that he uses to become weightless and floaty is simple to reapply, and they laugh as they twirl over the heads of some mortal cookies in the midst of revelry. They are paid no mind; a good thing, really. Shadow Milk almost dreads being seen, even here cookies have questions.

“Always is a bit of a stretch, Blue.” She spins them both again, letting go of his hands at the zenith and tossing him away with a laugh. If he so chose, he could stop the motion, momentum has no more hold on him than gravity, but he knows this game. It fills him with even more bubbly delight, that there are enough of them here to play it; they all are always so busy.

He's caught by one hand, treated to a hearty laugh from another dear friend of his, and he grins as he twists upside-down to meet Masala Spice’s eyes. “Oh, how rare it is to see you, Spice!”

“If you'd ever leave your dinky little tower you'd see me a lot more, Milk.” His friend responds, turning Shadow Milk over and setting him back down on his feet. Ah, a shame. He'd have enjoyed the break from standing, or a continuance of the game. When was the last time that game lasted longer than Sugar’s inciting throw?

“Like you leave your home?” Shadow Milk beams as White Flour rises to his defence. She smiles back at him placidly, giving him a short, brief nod. It's permission that Shadow Milk is eager to take advantage of. He quickly launches himself at his dear defender, hugging her as tightly as she'll allow (not very tight) and then pulling back after only a second. She's very uppity about these things, honestly. He wishes she would care less. “Blueberry Milk, a pleasant treat. It seems we all have made it. I'm glad.”

Shadow Milk gasps. “We all? Does that mean Salt is here!?” He asks, hopping into the air and raising his hand to shield his eyes as he peers around the festivities to try to find that familiar stark visage.

“You weren't that excited to see me.” Sugar lands beside Spice with a huff, crossing her arms as she uses his body as a wall to lean against. Spice was well used to it, being the biggest and strongest of them means it's an unavoidable fate. He, also, was the warmest-running, which meant the ones sensitive to the cold (Shadow Milk and Sugar) preferred to be dangling off of him most days. Flour always said it was unbecoming, but they can have fun sometimes. Besides, it hardly happens at all anymore. They don't see each other as often as they used to. “Can you believe him, Spicey?”

“I can. Salt is a fierce fighter, and a steady companion. He settles wars; you throw paltry little parties.” Spice grins, sharp teeth on display, and Sugar hops away from him with an affronted gasp. Immediately her tail starts to lash and she growls, clenching her hands into fists as she readies herself to summon her weapon.

“Don't rile her up now, Masala.” A quiet voice chides, causing Shadow Milk to whirl around with a grin. Bamboo Salt never leaves without their armor nowadays, but there's never a single thing that would make Shadow Milk delay in greeting them with gusto. “Blueberry, White.” Salt accepts Shadow Milk wrapping himself around their torso like a stubborn burr with grace, letting a hand rest on his shoulder and nodding to each of their friends in turn before turning back to Sugar. “Caster, you do such amazing work, and parties are the least of it. Without you, settling cookiekinds many quarrels would be an infinitely harder task. Marsala just wants a fight.”

“Well, I'll gladly give one to him!” Sugar bites, shaking her clenched fist his way. “I do so much more for cookies than you ever do, just sitting and watching them all day!”

“Now that's fighting words!” Spice responds, flames pouring out with his breath as he huffs. “You might wanna take it back, birdie.”

“Call me birdie again and I'll peck your eyes out!” Sugar screeches. Shadow Milk hardly pays them any mind; they're always like this. They're the two most passionate cookies in their little group, in a group of highly passionate cookies. They tend to get carried away. It's only normal, and fair. It fills Shadow Milk with warm fondness to see.

He's content where he is, at Salt's side, talking about the things he's learned and taught since they'd last seen each other. For being a cookie meant to spread the virtue of solidarity, they sure spent a lot of their time in solitude. Their social skills could use a lot of work.

The festivities, now that all five of them are together, truly feel a thousand times more lively as the evening turns to night. Shadow Milk indulges in games and dancing, sharing interesting trivia in the gaps of conversation his friends steadily start leaving as they grow weary of the atmosphere. It's always between him and Sugar who are left standing at the end, and it's always Sugar who wins. He expects it to hold true.

He and Sugar are once again the last two dancing, now; the others had wandered to the edges of the festivities to take a break, to put some distance between themselves and the mortals they care for. One night of fun is a hard ask when they all have such important work to do, but they make time. They always…

They always… make time…?

Do they?

This… isn't right.

Shadow Milk frowns mid twirl, Sugar giggling as she spins him faster and faster in the air. He can't remember the last time they'd all been together like this. Not simply because it's been so long, but because there hasn't been a time they'd all been together since Salt put on their fancy armor. They've been too busy for them. They stopped writing.

Sugar's giggles are sweet, too sweet, sickeningly so, and as Shadow Milk spins and spins and spins they gain an eerie quality… that… just…

The world tilts, colors dimming, and the festivities below sound muffled, distant. He comes to a sudden stop, Sugar clinging to his arm as she drags him back down to the ground and begins to tug him to the edges of the revelry. He's too confused, too dizzy to dig his heels in. His vision blurs as his heart starts to pound.

This is wrong.

White Flour stopped defending his work ethic a long time ago. Masala Spice never catches him when he's falling anymore. Caster Sugar doesn't greet him with a genuine smile. They all stopped writing to him.

Sugar, either oblivious to or uncaring of his little spiral, presses on. The distinction doesn't matter, really.

The sounds of festivities are almost impossible to hear now as they approach a familiar group, Shadow Milk's fellow Virtues, his friends. His friend beside him is silent as they step to join the group, though he's hardly present enough to note it. The air feels strange, like the pressure building before a storm, but he tries to push that foreboding thought to the back of his mind. He's with his friends, as he wanted. He's missed them. They have missed him.

“Took you long enough!” The words are heated, snappy, but not aggressive. “You're so slow, Blueberry Milk, shouldn't have taken you this long to join us.”

“This was an inevitability. There's no reason to care about how long it's been.” A cooler, more placid tone. Almost… apathetic.

“Ha, well, I don't know about inevitable…” Shadow Milk responds, pushing away the strange feeling their words give him once again. They’re completely alone now, the festivities far behind them, though he could have sworn they'd only walked a few yards. “But I'm glad to rejoin you all.”

“Great! Now we can get started.” Shadow Milk flinches as fire springs up around them, and he whirls to follow the trail as it–

“What are you doing?!” He yelps, jerking back only to be held firmly in place by the friend at his arm. “The festival–!”

“What do you think I'm doing?” Spice sneers– and suddenly, they are standing around a giant pit, so deep and dark there's no way to judge the distance to the bottom. Shadow Milk whips his head around to look at the burning village, confliction digging into his heart. “Even through change, it's all the same. It's become so boring, what else could I do?”

“Salt!” Shadow Milk yelps, expecting his dearest friend to jump in, manage Masala's capricious moods like they always do, but they only stare wordlessly into the pit. “Salt, please, tell him to stop– the village– our friends–”

But Silent Salt only tips, ever so slowly, on their feet. Shadow Milk watches in horror, something wretched curdling in his gut, as they fall headfirst into the deep, dark, unknowable depths. A scream tears itself out of his throat, but he is unable to shake off the tight grip on his arm, holding him back from tumbling in to try to help them.

“Sugar, we have to save him!” He screeches, clawing at her unyielding grip. He struggles, fights, but his mind is too frazzled. This is wrong. This isn't how this happened. “Spice, please, I don't care if you burn down the whole village, just– just help Salt up, please!”

Shadow Milk looks back just in time to see Burning Spice fall into the pit, just as Salt had done, with a grin. He shrieks again, reaches a hand out as if to catch him, but he is still held back. The conflict in his heart grows. He glances at his other friends, horrified that they'd just let him fall, but they don't seem to acknowledge it. “Why aren't you doing anything?!” He shouts, almost shrill.

“We all shall return to flour eventually. What does it matter?” Mystic Flour dips her head, letting gravity pull her down into the pit without any cares. Shadow Milk grits his teeth to keep another scream from tearing out his throat, and feels the grip on his arm loosen.

“I'm so tired…” Sugar says, when Shadow Milk turns to her. “We're all so tired… aren't you?” She asks, rubbing at her drooping eyes as she sways, unsteady on her feet. Shadow Milk can guess what will happen next, but he's still not ready.

Eternal Sugar is next to fall, slipping through his fingers when he tries to catch her, yawning and curling up as if just going to bed. He falls to his knees at the edge of the pit, horrified, as his last friend descends. He can't bear to watch, and so he closes his eyes. If he doesn't see it, it isn't real.

Shadow Milk is the last one, and already he can hear the questions ringing in his head. Questions with unpleasant answers, answers no cookie wants to hear, and he's… he's sick of it.

He finds himself wandering the smoldering village. It's still loud, though now the screams of delighted children are replaced by wailing. Cookies demand answers as he walks by them, but the truth– he doesn't know what to say– is about as effective as blowing on a bonfire. They want answers.

He wishes they'd just shut up, for once. Can't they see he's in pain, can't they see he's just as scared and lost as they feel, can't they for one single second THINK for THEMSELVES and realize HE HAS BIGGER PROBLEMS THAN THEIR INCESSANT WHINING!?

He searches for something, anything to help him. He looks through books, he studies his soul jam, he tries every bit of magic he can come up with that may help. He comes up with nothing. Nothing. Cookies start to mutter as he wanders past them, wondering when he'll fall too, if he's already gone, if he supported the wrongdoings of his friends– he ignores them, save for when they ask about his progress. They don't let him ignore them, then. (Just shut up, just shut up already–)

“It's a curse,” He lies, finally, when it gets too much. The questions abate for a time. So he lies again at the next unpleasant question, “I'm making progress,” and then again at the next. It pleases them, and gets them to finally shut up, but it never lasts.

Questions, questions, questions. They never stop asking, and it makes no sense to him. They hate the real answers. They've always hated them. That's why he's been lying for years. They can't even be bothered checking for themselves, so what use was the truth? The truth hurts. (His friends left him behind, abandoned him, threw him to the metaphorical wolves of cookies pleading pleading for their precious tools back–)

Resentment builds and clogs his throat, and he wanders to the edge of the pit daily, looking down and wondering if it really was as easy as his friends had made it seem. He always leaves, but every day it gets harder. It only ever gets easier making the walk to it.

It gets too much one day. There’s nothing in particular that does so; no singular straw. He walks to the pit, and when he tries to turn to leave, his feet refuse to move.

He closes his eyes and breathes in, out, and in again. Rage burns in his chest, his soul jam humming unpleasantly, as it's only ever done when he's lied too many times in one day. It doesn't like what he's doing, but it hardly matters. It's his, and he possesses it, not the other way around.

“We were supposed to help them…” He mutters, fists clenching as he kneels by the pit once again, opening his eyes to glare at the crumbling dirt between his fingers. “We were to be their friends…” He bites his cheek, feeling jam pool in his mouth. “And yet…”

And yet, that wasn't the full truth, was it…?

Cookies never liked the truth of things. This Shadow Milk remembers well, it's seared into his mind deep enough there's no denying it. Cookies can never handle it, there's no means for them to. Shadow Milk was a fool to think that he and his friends were exempt.

The thought makes him laugh now. The truth was, they had always been tools. When cookies declared them friends and went to them for help and guidance, it was only ever to benefit them. The Virtues reaped no reward for their help, and only ever were scorned for what they couldn't provide. No wonder his friends fell! What an utterly exhausting existence.

The truth is that Shadow Milk knows well he's tired, too, and bored, and angry. It's the one truth he has left in him, as his soul jam burns with new clarity.

It hardly matters if the Beasts haven't acted as his friends even since long before their fall. They're more friend to him than any other cookie, and the choice is simple.

The ground crumbles beneath him, and he falls. Though perhaps he had already been falling for a long, long time.

The fall is dark, and cold, and lonely.

Chapter Text

He lands, quite abruptly, in a patch of vanilla orchids.

It takes a few seconds to regain his bearings, blinking in stunned silence as he looks up at the blue sky. The familiar scent wraps around him, warm and soothing, and the light is a searing contrast to the utter darkness of before. It hurts, light sensitive eyes tend to do that, but he soaks it in regardless. It's better than the cold darkness of before.

There's a rustling sound, hurried steps. “Shadow Milk!” A concerned voice gasps out.

Suddenly Pure Vanilla is there, nearly tripping over him as he stumbles to his side. Pure Vanilla almost certainly crushes a few of his beloved flowers as he kneels, fretting about with his hands hovering above Shadow Milk as if hesitant to actually touch and confirm a lack of injuries. Far cry from his usual touchy nature. “A-are you okay? Why did you– what happened?”

Shadow Milk takes another second just to breathe, staring up at Pure Vanilla with a carefully blank expression. The worry and panic on his counterpart's face is… strange. Unusual. He'd thought Pure Vanilla was near impossible to rattle, but one eensy little tumble and he's practically quivering. It's either a very good act, or…

“Decided to try skydiving! Which, by the way, three out of ten experience, do not recommend.” Shadow Milk realises he's been too quiet for too long, grins wide as he shoots to sit up. Pure Vanilla only barely gets out of the way enough to avoid knocking their heads together. “Sorry to just drop in like that, but you probably expected me by now, huh?”

“Are you sure you're okay?” Pure Vanilla asks, taking one of Shadow Milk's hands and clasping it tightly. His expression is so earnest, so worried, and over something so insignificant. Shadow Milk has to tear his eyes away, look at his hand hidden between Pure Vanilla's own. Just to keep the sickness from flaring up again. “You're shaking.”

“Not a clue what you're talking about, Nilly. It was just a little fall! I've fallen before, it's not a big deal.” Shadow Milk dismisses, shaking himself out of whatever weird state he's in and yanking his hand away. He rises into the air, slips back to put some distance between them even as Pure Vanilla frowns. He feels colder for it. How odd. “If I were you I'd be more worried about your pathetic little flowers. I think I managed to crush about a hundred of them, haven't I? That's a new record!”

“Shadow Milk…” Pure Vanilla starts, but he doesn't seem to know how to continue.

“Don't worry, they look better this way! All crushed and trampled… but the smell is a bit rank, isn't it? Who knew broken flowers could be so pungent!” Shadow Milk doesn't give him an opportunity, swooping down enough to pick up one of the broken stems. Petals fall off the flower, drifting to the ground and landing among the corpses of its brethren, and his face scrunches up in exaggerated disgust. In truth, vanilla was not the worst scent. It certainly wasn't something he'd tell his other half, though. “Sure hope it didn't get on my clothes, can't imagine how many washes it'd take to get the smell out!” He flicks the stem away, leaning back with a careless shrug. “Really, you have terrible taste in flowers–”

“Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla interrupts, standing abruptly, moving much too quickly for a blind man without his staff. He snatches Shadow Milk's hand once more, too sudden for Shadow Milk to react, and with more force than he's ever used before he pulls Shadow Milk to face him. “Please. You scared me.”

His eyes are pleading, his grip is nearly desperate with how tight he holds. It's sickening, utterly and completely enraging how– how upset he looks. How worried. None of it can be honest, no one is that magnanimous, no one that stupid to care about someone who made it their goal to make them suffer. Even Pure Vanilla, old fool that he is, has his limits. He's already lied once, and this is just yet another.

“Let go of me.” Shadow Milk says, his expression falling into careful blankness once more. He can't afford to lash out again, even more sickeningly he doesn't truly want to, because– because Pure Vanilla just looks so witch-damned earnest, it's hard to believe he's lying. He knows he has to be, Shadow Milk shouldn't even try fooling himself into thinking otherwise, but Pure Vanilla is a really, really good liar. “Seriously, ‘Nilla, let go.” He attempts to tug his arm away, but there is no give.

Just a single, worried, pleading, determined stare, and a grip firm as Pure Vanilla's conviction.

“You don't have to talk about it, but please, don't pretend you're okay.” He says, holding tighter as Shadow Milk's attempts to tug his arm away get stronger. “I'm your friend, whether you believe it or not, and I want to help you. But I can't if you won't let me.”

“Let me go.” Shadow Milk insists, but the stubborn fool still persists. So be it. He's had his warning.

Shadow Milk pulls his arm again, but not to try to prompt a release; he knows Pure Vanilla isn't letting go anytime soon, it is a pointless endeavor. He draws up his arm and turns his wrist, forcing Pure Vanilla into an awkward angle to keep his grip, putting Pure Vanilla's arm in perfect distance to his face. From there it is a simple, quick matter to bite down as hard as he can on the cookie's wrist, feeling dough give way and jam pool.

Pure Vanilla's pained gasp reaches his ears and the hand finally releases, and so despite every instinct screaming to keep going, keep hurting, rend his limbs from body until he is naught but crumbs– he tears himself away, does his best to ignore the bitter disgusting taste of jam. Pure Vanilla's eyes are open, wide with shock and yet unseeing, and that's all the better. Something frigid and heavy pools in Shadow Milk's stomach as he stares at the damage he'd done, at Pure Vanilla clutching the seeping wound as if that alone would stem the flow.

Shadow Milk wipes his mouth with his sleeve. For being a dream, it's remarkable how real it all felt. How real it all looks. He wonders if, for the unknowing Pure Vanilla, it's at least dulled. He almost hopes– he grimaces at the thought, hides the expression with a glare and a growl. Anger is better, and the expected reaction. Not guilt. Shadow Milk doesn't feel it now, has never felt it ever, and Pure Vanilla would not be the one he harms to draw such a feeling if he ever would.

“When I say let go, I mean let. Go.” He grits out, baring stained, sharpened teeth. “You just can't help yourself, can you? You just have to try to weasel into matters that have nothing to do with you, don't you?” Shadow Milk draws himself up, attempting to halt the quiver in his frame and make a threatening display, not that it'd matter. His opponent can not see, presumably having dropped his staff the moment he first caught sight of Shadow Milk falling. “Well, you can't get your way every time! Sometimes, when you offer a hand, it's going to get bit.”

Pure Vanilla frowns, but when Shadow Milk turns away he can hear it. The soft rustle of fabric, the quiet shifting of flowers as Pure Vanilla approaches once more. He braces himself, jaw clenched tight and muscles wound, ready for another unwelcome touch. But it never comes. Pure Vanilla comes to a stop beside him, but doesn't reach out.

It doesn't feel like the victory it should be.

“... Your levitation spell,” Pure Vanilla starts, prompting Shadow Milk to glance at him in confusion. What a weird topic change. “How it works, you have to willfully dismiss it, don't you? It doesn't take continuous concentration to keep it going like other similar spells. Right?”

Shadow Milk's brow furrow. “How'd you come up with that?” He is right, of course, but that's just more baffling than anything. It's not your standard spellwork, after all. Most any cookie wouldn’t be capable of it, and Shadow Milk had kept it his personal little secret trick even before his fall. Pure Vanilla smiles, just for a second glancing at Shadow Milk before he looks away again.

“Right.” Pure Vanilla hums, breezing past Shadow Milk's question. Rude. “So when you fell, it was intentional.”

Shadow Milk narrows his eyes, discomfort prickling down his spine. So, this wasn't a strange topic change after all. Should have guessed, Vanilly wasn't the sort to leave it if he thought there was a problem he could fix.

“So that isn't why you're so shaken. But, it is a result of it.” Pure Vanilla continues unbothered. “I'm sorry, for what it's worth. I let my worry get away from me. I should have let you go the first time you– no, really, I shouldn't have grabbed you at all.” He sighs, finally facing Shadow Milk, smiling sadly. “I do hope you can forgive me.”

Shadow Milk glances down at Pure Vanilla's still-bleeding wound, glances back up to meet his eyes.

“Doesn't really matter much. Pretty sure you got what you deserved, apologizing after the consequences is pretty useless.” Shadow Milk huffs, closing his eyes as he presses a hand to his forehead, anticipating the headache this is going to be. Pure Vanilla was definitely going to insist on apologizing more, maybe even try making it up to him or something. Ugh. What a bore. “Don't really get your angle here, either. You really think I'd buy into you worrying your silly feeble mind over me?”

“No angle, and no trick. I mean it sincerely.” Pure Vanilla places a hand on his chest, just below his half of the soul jam, just barely brushing it with a finger. It seems to glow, lightly, as if the magic in the core of it was being drawn out to the surface. “I will say it however many times it takes for you to believe it, and then forever after too. I want to be your friend, and as your friend I care about you. That means, when you're having a hard time, I want to help you. I will never stop trying.”

Shadow Milk groans, utterly exasperated. “I'm not having a hard time. There's nothing wrong. You're just being a nuisance, needling at problems that don't exist.” He glances down at Pure Vanilla's wound again and sneers. “Try thinking about your own problems, actually. You're going to bleed out at this rate.” Not that it matters much, it's a dream, and any normal wound would have stopped by now. Even in most dreams, these things don't last that long. Normally they heal themselves once attention is pulled away from them.

“You're worried?” Pure Vanilla asks, smile somehow softening even more. Shadow Milk scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he's all too aware when Pure Vanilla shuffles just a smidge closer. “I'll tend to it later.”

“You know, I used to think you were smarter than this.” Shadow Milk grumbles, turning and grabbing Pure Vanilla's arm roughly. The gasp Pure Vanilla lets out is equal parts pained and surprised, it's not exactly easy on the wound to be yanked around like this. Whatever. “What will it take for you to drop this whole campaign? I'm fine. End of story.” He adds, lightly tracing a finger over the cracks in the dough. Light trails after his finger, pale blue and dim, and in its wake the wound closes, leaving no mark. It's not magic that comes easily to him anymore, but it's still not anything outside of his scope. Besides, this is a dream.

“You are a notorious liar.” Pure Vanilla says, voice soft, almost awed. Genuine surprise paints his expression when Shadow Milk finally looks away from the now unmarred dough, reminding the beast of exactly what he'd just done. He drops Pure Vanilla's arm as if it were made of hot coals, moves back a few feet to regain that distance between them, and turns away to hide his burning face. “But I can see I will get nowhere with this. I'll accept that, for now.”

“For now.” Shadow Milk mimics, rolling his eyes once more. Of course. Stubborn old fool.

“In any case, as I’m sure you’ll appreciate the change in subject, I suppose I do have something interesting to share.” Whatever passes for interesting to Pure Vanilla certainly isn't going to be remarkable, it was most likely about his flowers or his sheep or just some boring meeting he'd been dragged into, but any topic change is a welcome one. “I received some visitors earlier…”

“Let me guess, those stuffy snobs from the Créme Republic? You sound awfully amused, if so.” They're about the only visitors Pure Vanilla has ever talked about, and always with an air of tiredness hard to miss. They're difficult cookies to get along with, it seems, even for someone as lenient as Pure Vanilla. If he were the one handling it Shadow Milk would have dealt with them much more harshly much sooner, but he's never claimed Pure Vanilla was very smart.

“No, no, not them. Not official visitors at all, actually. I feel like you'd know them, though.” Pure Vanilla's amused smile tells nothing, but it's all too clear he's enjoying himself. Annoying. “A curious pair, I think their names were… ah, right. Apple Seed Cookie, and Grape Pip Cookie.”

The realization pours over Shadow Milk like molasses. His reactionary anger, though, lights much quicker.

“That's where they were all day?!” He snaps, gripping Pure Vanilla by the shoulders and shaking him harshly. “All day, they miss breakfast for it, they don't even tell me they won't be home–” He flits away, briefly, before returning, face inches away from Pure Vanilla's, fingers digging into his shoulders once more. “And they were with you, the whole time?! If I had known– ooooh, those brats are in so much trouble, see if I ever make them a meal again!” Shadow Milk breaks away again, hunching in on himself as he mutters potential punishments to level on his minions, growling lowly in every pause.

“Ah. You were worried about them, I gather.” Pure Vanilla approaches cautiously, hesitates a moment before placing a hand on Shadow Milk's shoulder. Shadow Milk freezes, but he's… he's fine. The contact only lasts a brief squeeze before Pure Vanilla retreats, anyhow, so it's not too bad. “They were fine when I saw them. Well, maybe a bit wound up, but I assume that's because they only stopped by to shout at me.”

“Well, they weren't told to.” Shadow Milk unfurls himself, crosses his arms and attempts to leisurely lean back, as if he wasn't bothered immensely. “I don't see why they'd decide that was a productive use of their time, I had work for them to do that actually mattered.” He didn't, actually, none of what they've been doing lately has been steps towards a bigger plot, but Pure Vanilla didn't need to know that. “So, what did they shout about? Can't imagine they have anything recent, and I didn't think you wronged them specifically at any point.”

“Well, clearly, they were bothered by that rumor. They were, for whatever reason, convinced it had merit.” Shadow Milk blinks owlishly, but Pure Vanilla doesn't seem keen on pausing to elaborate on that facet. “And also convinced that I had some sort of spell cast, so they wished for me to cancel it and, well. Told me to go burn in the oven, which perhaps isn't unexpected.” Shadow Milk could feel the heat of embarrassment and rage flood his cheeks, though thankfully Pure Vanilla wasn't facing him so directly. Nor could he really see that sort of detail, not without his staff.

Regardless, how mortifying.

“They also brought some items with them,” Pure Vanilla starts. Dread is, by now, a familiar feeling. “Which I found interesting, given you told me that you destroyed the book I bought you.” His voice sounds like he's repressing some laughter, absolutely at Shadow Milk's expense.

Shadow Milk doesn't respond for a moment, but recovers quickly. As quickly as he can, anyhow. He wants out of this dream, he's had enough, but that's not how this works, unfortunately. “I am a notorious liar, you said it yourself. Don't know why you'd believe a single thing I say.” He shrugs carelessly. “Don't read into it. I just haven't decided what to do with the thing, just tearing it to pieces wouldn't be nearly satisfying enough.”

“I'm certain,” Pure Vanilla says. “Though the doll–”

“You are making yourself look a little ridiculous, now. You've been to the spire, you've seen my puppets, it's just another meaningless trinket.” Shadow Milk interrupts, perhaps a little too quickly. In any case, he can say with certainty that Black Sapphire and Candy Apple were going to face harsh retribution for this.

Pure Vanilla shakes his head, but doesn't push the issue. “Well, if you'd like them back, I'll keep them safe for you. I would deliver them myself, but…” He trails off, not that he really needs to finish that sentence. Pure Vanilla would not be welcomed to the spire by any of the residents, even if the journey was a simple one, and it very much isn't. His phrasing is interesting, though.

Maybe he's aware he's dreaming once again, he seems quite prone to it. It's disconcerting for him to be speaking as if he knows that Shadow Milk is actually there, but he pushes that idea aside for now. Surely, if that is what's happening, Shadow Milk would have been blocked out a long time ago.

“Don't worry your pretty little head over it, Nilly. I wanted those things gone anyways, you can toss them out for all I care.” Shadow Milk knows that Pure Vanilla wouldn't do that, he's the sentimental type, but that's probably even less convenient for Shadow Milk to retrieve them. Especially with the soul jam acting as a practical beacon. If Pure Vanilla would at least toss them out, then it reduces the chance of discovery immensely.

“They'll be well looked after.” Just as Shadow Milk thought. Silly Vanilly and his silly sentiments. “If you ever change your mind, you can visit at any time. The doors will always be open for a friend.”

“How many times do I have to say it?” Shadow Milk groans, rolling over in the air to stare at Pure Vanilla with an annoyed frown. “I am not your friend, ‘Nilla.”

Pure Vanilla simply smiles, tilts his head in that not-endearing-in-the-least manner of his. “Regardless, I am yours.”

Chapter Text

The next morning finds Shadow Milk in a marginally better mood than he'd ended the night with, though that doesn't say much. Perhaps not unexpectedly, the end of the dream leaves him frazzled, piecing together the events to try to make sense of them. Words echo in his mind that he hastily and with prejudice tries to silence, but they stick to him like burrs.

With sheer willpower failing to silence them, it comes down to finding a distraction to drown them out. He turns, then, instead, to “greeting” his favorite little menaces. Anger is an easier emotion to hold and to process, and he's more receptive to it than… whatever that mess was.

Because they never showed for breakfast the day previous, he decides that they don’t get the luxury of sleeping in. They're roused none too gently and then marched along to the kitchen, both too sleepy to register how sticky sweet Shadow Milks smile is, how tightly he grips his scepter.

They would have returned very late in the night, maybe even so late it was early morning. without access to Shadow Milk's stronger portals it'd take them longer to reach the other continent than usual, they could only cover about a fourth of the distance with their proficiency. They probably underestimated how long they'd be entirely, too. However long they got to sleep, it wasn't anywhere near long enough. Too bad. So sad.

Breakfast isn't anything special. Just toast, not even any fruit on the side, and no juice. Even half asleep, that apparently makes it clear enough to the pests that they've done something to irritate him. They exchange half-bleary looks of dread, quickly morphing into accusation as they decide that the best way to redirect his rage was to accuse each other of being the brain behind their stupid idea, but that's not going to work today~!

“Now, I'm pretty sure you both know what you did.” Shadow Milk starts, clasping his hands together as he hovers over the counter, too wound up to consider actually sitting but not wishing to get within strangling distance just yet. “So I would hope you'd skip the part where you trade the blame and argue and blah, blah, blah. Neither of you will get out of this, so it's pointless.” He leans forward, eye twitching. “But I'm gonna need to know why you did it, because I want to know exactly how mad I need to be.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the reaction is near instantaneous.

“It was Sapphy's idea, I just went along with it!” Candy Apple accuses, jabbing her finger harshly in Black Sapphire's direction as he gasps in offense. “He made me take the stupid doll! I would never have entered my dear, sweet Master Shadow Milk's room if he didn't push me!”

“Me?! You practically beat the door down! If it weren't for me you wouldn't have even waited for Master Shadow Milk to go to breakfast first!” Black Sapphire grabs her hand and forcefully pushes it down, sneering unpleasantly as he meets her glare with twice the heat. “I only suggested searching it because you were blubbering like a baby and I thought it'd get you to shut up!”

Candy Apple gasps, affronted. “Yeah, but you were the one who suggested Shadow Milk was going to abandon us in favor of that dry, boring, terrible cookie!”

“I didn't say that! You jumped to that idea yourself!”

“You so did, you said that the rumor had merit–”

“I said that there was evidence–”

“You said–”

“I said–”

“ENOUGH!” Shadow Milk interjects, rising to hover above the two quarreling cookies, who pause in their impromptu little tussle, Candy Apple frozen mid-pulling Black Sapphire's hair and Black Sapphire stalling trying to push her off. “Didn't I say not to start doing exactly that?! Just–” He sighs, palm to his head. “Just, one at a time, explain to me what you did.” He says, sinking back to the counter with narrowed eyes. “Candy first.” He adds, realizing that they were going to argue again if he didn't choose for them.

Candy Apple sticks her tongue out at Black Sapphire before hopping back into her chair and settling in to explain. It's simple enough; after Shadow Milk dismissed the rumor Black Sapphire had overheard, Candy Apple had told him that the blue cookie mentioned may have been Shadow Milk himself; she remembered “saving” him from Pure Vanilla, after all. Black Sapphire didn't believe her until they went to put away their dishes, where they found the book Shadow Milk left behind. Evidence clear as day, given they know of Shadow Milk’s hatred for the things. Easy to follow that far.

It's harder to understand how they jumped into believing the rumor so easily, however. They're well aware rumors are very often as far from truth as they can get, and they arguably should know Shadow Milk better. Candy Apple tries to move past it quickly after a glare from Black Sapphire, but skimming over the apparent conversation they'd had after the book was found wasn't something Shadow Milk would allow. When he demands elaboration, Candy Apple doesn’t have the will to deny him, even with Black Sapphire gesturing for her to keep mum.

“Well, because you've been acting so weird lately–” Candy Apple pauses with a flinch, ducking her head and covering her mouth with wide eyes, as if she misspoke.

“Candy Apple Cookie!” Black Sapphire hisses, only stopping himself when Shadow Milk simply raises a hand for silence. He slumps back in his chair, arms crossed as he continues to glare at Candy Apple, who reluctantly continues at Shadow Milk’s silent gesture.

“You, um, you've been really nice, and rewarding us, and, um. Spending time with us? So we've been wondering why, and after the trip to the market–” Candy Apple pauses again, tapping her fingertips together as she glances at Black Sapphire. “Well. We've never had to go before, so Sapphy thought it could have been an excuse…”

“An excuse?” Shadow Milk prompts, though he's pretty sure he knows where this'll end.

“To meet with Pure Vanilla.” Black Sapphire grumbles, avoiding looking at Shadow Milk's expression. “The spire doesn't run out of food, it never has before.”

“Thanks to a certain someone, the spell that stocks the shelves is broken beyond repair.” Shadow Milk responds, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. “The same someone I've been spending every night terrorizing, and the same someone I swore to destroy. You know, Pure Vanilla Cookie?” Shadow Milk growls. “You seriously thought to even entertain the idea that I wanted to see him?”

“I didn't think you were willing!” Black Sapphire defends, placing a hand on his chest as if taken aback. “I thought he'd cast a spell or charm, and your mind was muddled!”

“Oh, yes, that's so much less insulting.” Shadow Milk rolls his eyes. “You think I'm seriously weak enough to fall victim to a simple charm?”

“Of course not!” Black Sapphire lets his hands fall to the table, pressing his weight onto them as if just barely restraining himself from leaping to his feet. Candy Apple glances between them with wide eyes, before finally landing on Black Sapphire with something close to fear. He doesn't seem to notice, but Shadow Milk certainly does. “But you must admit it's strange that instead of repairing the spells to restock our food for us, that we instead went to the market! In fact, the very same market on the very same day Pure Vanilla was there!”

“I can't repair the spells because of what that cookie did to me!” Shadow Milk snaps, fists clenched tightly as he shoots into the air. His hair writhes behind him, weakly. Nowhere close to the energy and gravitas his rage ordinarily would conduct, because he didn’t have the strength. “It took all that I had to piece this place back together as it was, and I haven't recovered from the strain! Give me another month, and I'll fix it so that we have feasts prepared before we even step out of bed, but right now we have to fend for ourselves!”

Candy Apple and Black Sapphire stare at him with wide eyes, mouths agape, and it takes a few seconds of silence before Shadow Milk realises what he's said. His hair settles into will-less strands once more as he curls into himself, his frustration ebbing into cooler, more exhausted, embers of its once great shape. He groans, rubbing his eyes tiredly before shaking his head in an attempt to stave off the inevitable headache.

“Right. Well, guess the cats outta the bag there.” He mutters, rolling his eyes as he straightens once more. “Pure Vanilla managed to, somehow, weaken me temporarily. This does not,” he glares at Black Sapphire, “mean that I have been charmed or cursed or whatever silly idea you can come up with. I'll recover eventually, but keeping the Spire from completely crashing in on itself didn't help much. I should have let it crumble and just started over, but–” he stops. They probably understand having an attachment to the place. “In any case, that's why we went to the market.”

It's also why, when they disappeared, he had no idea where they went. His many eyes may allow him to still see, but now there's a limit to the distance they can spread; limited to, simply, his own cast shadows. If he could have sent an eye or two to track them, then they wouldn't have worried him so much. Not that he was worried for them, mind, just… over what they were up to. That's all.

Shadow Milk waits for their reactions, the momentary lull in conversation post his reluctant confession tense and grating. To think their Master has fallen so low, they must be rethinking their choices, questioning why they ever followed him in the first place if he loses to such a weak, soft-hearted little–

Candy Apple suddenly hops out of her seat with a wail, latching onto Shadow Milk's coattails and hugging them tightly, as Shadow Milk himself was slightly too high to grab. “How dare that Pure Vanilla Cookie! How could he do this to my sweet Shadow Milk! He'll pay for this!” Shadow Milk sighs and drifts down, allowing her to switch targets and cling to his side as she throws her little tantrum. He rolls his eyes as he pats her head, ignores the little twinge of relief settling in his chest, and finds that he can somewhat appreciate her declaration. A touch dramatic, but they all were.

“I… didn't realise…” Black Sapphire says with a sullen frown. “But, you kept the book. You hate books. I don't understand…” He makes a small motion with his hands, opening and closing his grasp, as if trying to pluck his thoughts out of the air before him and missing every line.

“Yeah, well, it's not your job to understand why I do things, now is it?” Shadow Milk responds. “You just need to worry about doing what you do, and leave me to my machinations, Sapphy. If you need to know, I'll let you know, that's how it's always worked.” Candy Apple is light enough, and has a tight enough hold, that it's simple to shuffle the both of them over to the table so he could poke Black Sapphire's arm. Shadow Milk grins once Black Sapphire’s eyes refocus to land on him. “And this is something you don't need to know, got it?”

“I… yes, Master Shadow Milk.” Black Sapphire responds, nodding quickly, even if his eyes can’t quite hide his hesitance. “... My apologies. We acted rashly, in retrospect.”

Shadow Milk nods once, resolutely, before plucking Candy Apple off of his side and placing her back in her chair. He returns to his spot on the counter with legs crossed, hands resting on his knee. “So, that all settled, I think I know what I'm going to do with the two of you.” The pair exchange panicked glances, seemingly having forgotten who they were dealing with. Or maybe not quite, as Black Sapphire quickly grabs Candy Apple's shoulder and tenses. Though, despite his carefully wary expression, he's not poised to escape. Like running isn’t even a thought on his mind.

Perhaps he also recognises that there’s no need for anything drastic, now. For all his bluster, Shadow Milk isn't one to waste good resources! And misguided as they were, ultimately their disobedience was in service to him. He can be lenient, so long as it doesn't happen again.

“Follow me, my dear minions. I've got a special punishment in mind!” Shadow Milk chuckles darkly before sweeping out of the kitchen, herding the pair out the door and into the winding, twisting hallways. The room he leads them to is altogether one of the hardest ones to find, even if you know and ask excessively politely. It's intentional, but inconvenient. Which adds to the punishment, of course.

They get turned around and Candy Apple is nearly lost to a sudden chute opening beneath their feet, (though Black Sapphire is having one of his rare doting moments and is able to intercede and pull her into the air before she falls even an inch) but they eventually make it to the right hall in one piece. The rabbits and other assorted magic-made creatures inhabiting the spire bristle at their presence and flee, an uncommon enough sight for the pair that they begin to understand just how terrible the place they were led is.

Shadow Milk pauses at the door, double-wide and intimidating dark-chocolate construction, waiting for his minions to experience a few seconds more of dread before pushing it open. He’s got to make this properly dramatic, after all.

The library hasn't changed much in construction from when the spire was an ordinary building, back when Shadow Milk was the Fount of Knowledge and had use for such a place. It had golden railings along the upper pathways and stairs, with ladders spiralling up and up and up; the library is likely the tallest room in the spire, each shelf spanning fifteen feet in height before another landing splits them. On the ground floor there are enough tables to house a small army, and a large workstation covered in papers and dried-out ink pots and bookbinding materials most certainly useless given their age. The floor is warm wood instead of cold checkered tiles, and everything is covered in massive amounts of dust and cobwebs. When he abandoned his old title, there was no reason to repurpose the room and he wanted to forget about it in its entirety, and so it remains a desolate little memorial to that loathsome era.

It's, also, overflowing with rabbits. The creatures have made a mess of the place, books tossed off of their shelves and chewed and torn and scattered across every surface. There are tunnels burrowed through the walls and shelves linking every floor in an elaborate maze, and one table is half gone with notable nibbles on the remnants, so it's clear they've made a home here. It's convenient for what he needs. He grins as he sweeps an arm out in a grand gesture, turning to see the twin expressions of awed confusion painted on his follower's faces.

“This is where you'll be spending your days for… who knows how long! That'll depend on how quick you both can work, and/or how charitable I end up feeling later down the line.” Shadow Milk lands briefly, just long enough to stoop down and pick up one of the ruined books, tsking cheerfully as he shows it off with delight. “If you're so worried about charms and curses, you might as well learn how to detect them! There should be a book here or there, I think… ah!” Shadow Milk snaps his fingers, making a sheet of paper and a quill appear, jotting something down quickly before shoving the paper into Black Sapphire's hand. “There you go, that book should be useful! A shame I can't seem to recall where it'd be stored, but you'll find it eventually, I'm sure. Once you do, just study for a while. When you can prove you've learned, your punishment will be over.”

Black Sapphire's eyes roam over the debris and dust, lip curling as another ruined book falls from the high shelves out of sight to land at their feet with a wet thud. “But that's going to take forever!” Candy Apple whines, stomping her foot petulantly.

“What if the book isn't readable? What do we do then?” Black Sapphire adds. It's clear that they already hate this task, which is perfect. “What about our work?”

“Work's on pause indefinitely, Sapphy.” Shadow Milk picks up another ruined book, setting it on top of the first one he'd grabbed and setting the stack on the closest table. “And if you can't read it, there's plenty of other books here. One of them will have a restoration spell. Maybe look for that one first.” Shadow Milk winks, thoroughly enjoying the dejected look he receives. “Welp! You better get to work now, huh? You've got, hmmm…” Shadow Milk cranes his neck up, squinting as he stares at the towering shelves. “Maybe a hundred floors to check. Might want to chase out the rabbits first, too. But I won't tell you how to go about this.”

“You can't be serious–” Black Sapphire starts, but Shadow Milk only has to turn his grin his way before Black Sapphire quiets.

“Oh, I'm very serious. If you're going to act on bizarre theories, you're at least going to learn how to prove them first.” Shadow Milk drifts back to the doorway, settling upside down for a moment as he watches the pests squirm. “Run along now, the sooner you start the less time this will take. I'll bring you some snacks; studying goes down better with a full stomach!”

The doors slam behind him as he leaves, cackling as he speeds back to the kitchen at breakneck pace. One week of this, hell, one day of this will teach them. See if they dare ever worry him like that again.

Chapter Text

Black Sapphire and Candy Apple take to studying like fish to sand, which is to say, with a lot of floundering and suffering before realizing there wasn't any way of getting out of it themselves and falling still. Because he didn't give them any idea where to start looking, and there were the problems of the rabbits and the ruined books to handle, they'd spent that first day picking up the books that were on the floor and wrestling them from the maw of creatures incapable of reason. Eventually Candy Apple split off from Black Sapphire to chase rabbits out, given she was a rather effective little terror, and that's where the real work started.

Most of the books had their covers torn off, or their pages chewed to bits, or both. Identifying which was which quickly became a near impossible task. Shadow Milk didn't help, of course, this was a punishment, but he did occasionally give roundabout hints on where they'd find the restoration spell that'd speed up their work. And yes, he knew exactly where it was, because it happened to be the first half-chewed book he'd picked up by chance when he first gave them their task. Coincidences were quite funny like that. Though he did monitor their progress most days, and in fact spent some time repairing the shelves and furniture. Just to fill time.

It's remarkable to learn just how much they didn't know about magic. Black Sapphire had a grasp on basic concepts, but not really much beyond that. Candy Apple didn't even have that. Their illusions and other tricks were memorized by rote, not any actual understanding of what they're doing and why. Their talent shines there, actually, given they haven't accidentally blown themselves up yet. Now, though, they're getting that understanding through skimming books and asking questions over breakfast. It's fun, really, to see how quickly they get the concepts down.

Aside from that, days have been uneventful. Shadow Milk hasn't been dreaming, so he's been working on making a way to keep the rabbits out of the library. It's a nice puzzle, and makes him wonder just how he'd come up with such annoyingly clever constructs. It makes the nights waiting for his dear disciples to wake pass quicker, and allows him to avoid shutting his eyes and dreaming again.

It wouldn't be an issue if Pure Vanilla was sleeping on time, or on any predictable schedule. But if Shadow Milk sleeps too soon he's tossed into whatever nonsense his own mind conjures, most often a mix of memory and feeling that he'd rather not experience. The spell can only send him to a dream once it's started, otherwise he's left in his own mind, experiencing a dream as if it's reality without the knowledge of it, in fact, being a dream. Not a recipe for a great time, and Shadow Milk avoids doing things he doesn't like. He was past due for a break from Vanilly's silly dreams anyways, so it's nothing so terrible. He doesn't care that much either way.

It's only because he's bored and restless that he ends up in Pure Vanilla's garden one day, slithering between the flowers in the form of a small snake. The sunlight isn't as terribly bright in reality, though it's certainly not by a drastic degree. The scent of the vanilla orchids is not as strong, and the warmth is not as comforting, but it's familiar in every other regard. It makes finding his way through simple, the wanderings with Pure Vanilla in dreams finally showing their use, as he makes his way to the gazebo in the center of the courtyard.

There's a distant itch and pulse in his souljam, letting him know Pure Vanilla was indeed in the castle today. It's not something he pays much heed to, as it stays distant, but it's of note regardless. He acts as if it isn't there, makes his way to his destination and begins the slow climb up the support posts to curl himself on the slim ridges of the roofs edge. It's warm, a good place to bask. He blames instincts provided by form, though there are none to blame in reality, for how he stretches out in the dreadful sunlight and settles in for a time.

For what purpose is this visit? Just to enjoy the amenities? Just to test the limits of this tenuous connection between halves? Though he wouldn't admit such aloud, even Shadow Milk didn't truly know.

He had, at the beginning, some plan to take back his belongings, but he'd never actually achieved in getting Candy Apple and Black Sapphire to admit where they'd left them. Oh, sure, he knows already, and they may know he has a very good idea of where they could have taken them, but they still think his dreams with Nilly were filled with the same torment he'd provided the dull ancient during his time in the spire. Admitting he knew could mean they figure out that Pure Vanilla's dreams were nothing close to nightmares, and that wouldn't do. Besides that, they'd question the reappearance of those items.

Secondarily to that, Pure Vanilla himself was an obstacle. Nevermind his presence at the castle itself, leaving Shadow Milk little room to conduct a thorough search without risk of discovery, there's also the factor that he may take this as a silent admittance of some sensation of friendship or something. Or worse, that he connects this action to one of their talks in his dreams and realizes that Shadow Milk has been invading for quite some time. Of all the ways for that to be discovered, this would certainly be the stupidest one.

But Shadow Milk had already opened the portal on impulse before having these thoughts, already hopped through and changed into his small scaly form to avoid being spotted. He's already here, and he's not keen on making the trip back without doing something of note, even if currently he isn't sure what he's going to do.

The garden is quiet and peaceful, empty of living beings save for one. It's, mildly, grating. The warm sun on his scales reinvigorates his desire to move, drives away the ever-present chill in his dough that makes reptilian forms so unappealing in his day-to-day, but to reap the benefits he must stay in its reach. A drowsy contentedness pulls at his mind, attempts to will him to sleep, but he does not give in. Barely.

Time passes. He doesn't know exactly how long, simply knowing the sky had only just lost its sunrise haze and the sun had just started its climb when he'd arrived and now has started to sink just after its peak. He basks in the light for the duration, only hazy thoughts drifting to mind and then far out of his reach before they can be truly perceived. He's only broken out of the state when the mild itch and soft pulse of the souljam grows, turns into something impossible to ignore, and he turns his head to look down at the stairs and meet a familiar yellow-blue gaze.

Pure Vanilla doesn't look surprised at his presence, which makes some logical sense. If Shadow Milk could feel him bustling about the castle all day, running to and fro likely doing tasks that now that he is no longer king shouldn't (but still happened to, for whatever reason) fall onto his shoulders, then Pure Vanilla could definitely sense him sitting in the garden. The soft, fond smile isn't an unfamiliar sight either. Shadow Milk doesn't move, doesn't feel much of a need or desire to, simply watches lazily as Pure Vanilla stands at the bottom of the stairs and watches him in turn.

“I'm glad you came to visit.” Pure Vanilla says, finally taking the first step up the stairs. “Though, you could have picked a better day. I don't have much time for you, which I deeply regret.” He takes the next even as Shadow Milk's eyes narrow, forked tongue flicking akin to any regular serpents would. The vanilla scent on the air is thicker when he draws his tongue back in, heady and nearly overwhelming. Pleasant, if he were a touch more delusional. “Is there a reason for your form?”

Shadow Milk considers his reply, if he were to give one at all, but it's a mix between his natural inclination towards speech and habit formed by their nights together that ultimately loosens his tongue. “You would rather some passerby see a Beast in your garden?” Shadow Milk asks, lightly snickering at the wide eyes he receives. Most never see a serpent talk, he supposes. Pure Vanilla surely couldn't have expected him to change back to answer a simple question. “Besides, it makes the sunlight more tolerable. Your kingdom is so bright, Nilly, it's disgusting. At least this form gets something out of it.”

“I suppose that makes some sense.” Pure Vanilla hums, raising a hand to his chin as he tilts his head, considering. “It's somewhat classical imagery, isn't it?” At Shadow Milk’s silent stare, Pure Vanilla continues. “A serpent in a garden. I feel like I've read something like that, or perhaps the idea simply feels apt.”

“A serpent often represents deception, in stories.” Shadow Milk responds, slithering down a length, reaching the support post in time to be nearly face-to-face with Pure Vanilla standing on the topmost step. “Gardens represent peace, tranquility. Safety. Depending. There's a lot of flexibility there.” You can't quite generalize, really. Anything can mean anything, if you change the order of words and the context. Stories and lies aren't incredibly different, lies simply need a tiny drop of truth within them to truly be deceit. “What does a serpent in a garden mean, then? Is it to lead the visitor astray, or is it a warning of false hope?”

They're rhetorical, but Pure Vanilla simply hums thoughtfully, as if truly intending to answer. “A serpent could represent eternity, too. There are stories where serpents are guardians of sacred places, and others still where they’re associated with both poisons and healing.” Pure Vanilla smiles, making Shadow Milk's stomach churn. “A serpent in a garden could mean anything. I think,” Pure Vanilla half-covers his smile with a hand. “I think a serpent in a garden is a good thing, though perhaps I am biased.”

Shadow Milk would sneer, if a snake were capable of the expression. Instead he flicks his tongue again and crawls lower further, only pausing when a hand is outstretched, in offer or command doesn't truly matter, Pure Vanilla placidly waiting for a response.

Given the last time they had met, even if only in dreams, Shadow Milk had bit him… this was remarkably stupid. Shadow Milk stares at the undefended open palm, knows quite well how easy it would be to bite and pierce dough. Pure Vanilla has dreams to warn him, even if he didn't know that Shadow Milk was actually there, that this is a bad idea. But he still smiles, warm and inviting, waiting for Shadow Milk to move.

“Pure Vanilla Cookie!” A new voice interrupts the moment, causing Pure Vanilla to jump and turn slightly, staff held in his other hand turned to view the newcomer and not the dangerous snake hovering near to strike. It's another stupid, stupid thing Pure Vanilla has done. It deserves some form of comeuppance, some consequence. There are lessons Pure Vanilla is ignoring here, and Shadow Milk can teach them again. It would be so easy. “Sorry, but we need– what are you doing?!”

Shadow Milk is no longer a teacher, and he finds the role utterly unappealing.

As the panicked newcomer stutters, and Pure Vanilla begins to pull away to placate them, Shadow Milk lets himself fall from the pillar and into that open palm, feeling Pure Vanilla jump with shock from the sudden weight but not letting it stop him. Shadow Milk coils up around Pure Vanilla's arm, resting his head over his shoulder and staring at the interruption with eyes thinned to slits. He's long enough that the tip of his tail reaches Pure Vanilla's wrist, but his coil is loose and easily removable. Pure Vanilla could simply jostle his shoulder and Shadow Milk would fall. It's a hindrance, rather, because Pure Vanilla will hardly be able to do anything without tossing Shadow Milk to the ground, and his soft heart would never forgive himself for the slight. It, also, puts Shadow Milk conveniently close to the souljam.

“A-ah,” Pure Vanilla stammers, drawing his arm back and close to his chest, an attempt to hold Shadow Milk more balanced, to keep from dropping him. He clearly has never handled a snake before, but he at the very least seems to understand the concept of not squeezing them. “Well, I found a snake.” He says, rather obviously. Shadow Milk can't help a quiet snort at his expense, but Pure Vanilla doesn't react. More like he can't react, given their company, but semantics.

“I can see that!” The other cookie snaps, the bird perched on their shoulder flapping its wings and cawing its own frustration as they move too fast for it to rebalance its perch. They stabilize it with their hand swiftly, a practiced motion, sending Pure Vanilla the most exasperated glare Shadow Milks ever seen directed at the good-incarnate ancient. “What are you doing playing with it?! It could be venomous!”

Shadow Milk's tongue flicks again, scenting the air and finding, delightfully, the smell of raisins drifting off the other cookie. Shadow Milk has a small catalogue of information about cookies Pure Vanilla knows, useful for trickery, so he can assume this is one of the new citizens he'd ended up with when he temporarily became Healer Cookie. Though the exact who escapes him, momentarily, it's only a matter of time. There aren’t many in that number with only one arm.

They're certainly more intelligent than Pure Vanilla, at least in regards to wild animal safety. The bird on their shoulder caws again, as if in agreement, and just because it's fun, Shadow Milk stretches open his maw in a “yawn”, stretching extra slowly to show off long, hollow fangs.

The other cookie stiffens, and Pure Vanilla sighs before bracing his staff in the crook of his elbow to free his hand, gently tapping Shadow Milk's nose in what he likely felt was a chastising blow. “Stop that.” He says, in response to which Shadow Milk lets out a hiss of annoyance. “I'd appreciate it if you didn't frighten my friends.”

Shadow Milk could not care less about what Pure Vanilla would appreciate, but he is in the presence of a bird and its handler, and there are plenty of reasons to fear that in his current form. A crow wouldn’t do much against a snake his size, but it’ll be a hassle that isn’t worth dealing with even so. He resettles himself, moving up slightly for a more stable perch, head resting on Pure Vanilla's collar and coil around his arm slightly tighter. Pure Vanilla can think he's cooperating, if he'd like.

“Thank you.” Pure Vanilla says brightly, using that same hand that dealt gentle punishment to stroke the space atop Shadow Milk's head, the blue marking between his eyes. The warmth of his dough transfers as easily as the light of the sun; it seems that both sensations were more tolerable in scales. Shadow Milk lets his head rest, but he keeps his gaze locked on the other cookie. She looks shocked and horrified, but also, very notably, tired.

“You…” She sighs, shaking her head. “We'll talk about this later, but nevermind. Could you put the snake down and come help? There's sheep breaking into the academy again. We’ve tried catching them ourselves, but it’s not helping much.” Pure Vanilla glances down at Shadow Milk, who would shrug if he were able. He's had nothing to do with that, but he half wishes he did. Sounds like something more entertaining than dozing in this dull old garden.

“Yes, I'll be there in a moment.” Pure Vanilla responds, before turning back to the pillar and extending his arm to it. “My apologies, it seems I had even less time than I had thought.” Pure Vanilla says quietly. Shadow Milk flicks his tongue and considers his options. Sit here, doing nothing, or watch herds of students panic over a few mere sheep. It's simple enough.

“I'm not going anywhere, are you kidding? Imagine how hilarious that scene has got to be!” Shadow Milk responds in a quiet hiss, tightening his hold on Pure Vanilla's arm. Pure Vanilla doesn't move for a moment, uncertainty marring his expression. “Well? Hop to it, Shepherd Boy, your feeble little lambs need you. And the sheep too, I guess.”

“Don't say that.” Pure Vanilla scolds, but he retracts his arm again and turns to the other cookie with a feeble smile. “Apologies, Black Raisin Cookie, it seems he won't be leaving anytime soon.”

The other cookie, Black Raisin of course, sighs again, shaking her head and rubbing her temples. “You can just move him yourself–” She starts, but then cuts herself off with a frustrated noise. “Or let me just–”

“No, no! No need. It's fine.” Pure Vanilla cups a hand almost defensively over Shadow Milk's head, although his defense is most likely only for Black Raisin’s sake. He is aware that Shadow Milk bites, after all. Black Raisin gives Pure Vanilla a strange look, but he merely smiles nervously and shuffles back a few steps as if anticipating her to make an attempt regardless.

“I won't hurt it.” She promises, as if that were the concern. “I'll just get it out of the garden. How could it have even gotten here, anyways, I don't think I've seen a snake like it before…”

“I brought him with me from Beast-Yeast.” Pure Vanilla lies, or perhaps just exaggerates. It is true that Shadow Milk came from Beast-Yeast, and that if it weren't for Pure Vanilla's presence he wouldn't be here. But if anything, that just makes the lie stronger, doesn’t erase the fact that it's a lie in the first place. “So I'd really rather you let him be, if you ever happen upon him here. He's fine, he won't bother the sheep or any other cookie.” And there he goes, making promises for Shadow Milk that will not be kept.

Still, Black Raisin seems to accept such promises, or at least resigns herself to not being able to talk Pure Vanilla out of his silly whims. He does happen to have a stubborn streak at times, a quality unbecoming of his goody-goody schtick, and it's more than clear from just witnessing this one interaction that she's weathered those times plenty already. It's amusing to see another cookie display any sign of annoyance at Pure Vanilla's Pure Vanilla-isms.

The sheep problem is resolved incredibly quickly, almost disappointingly so. That's even with the sheep clearly spooking whenever Shadow Milk happened to move or flick his tongue or even just glance at them, too. Pure Vanilla is a skilled little shepherd, diligent and kind, his soft reassurances alone enough to get the sheep to calm through the herding process. He manages to get them out the doors of the academy and back to their handlers quite efficiently, though escaping the academy itself becomes a more trying task.

The students at the academy were simply too curious at the odd specimen their ex-healer and ex-king was carrying, even when Shadow Milk hissed, to let Pure Vanilla move on with his day. The only reprieve from their curiosity came when some foolhardy young thing got their grubby little fingers too close to actually touching a scale on his hide, and he'd struck just a second too slow to catch said fingers.

It had gotten Pure Vanilla's attention, and had made him quickly draw back with another warning that the snake would bite, but surprisingly enough Pure Vanilla only thanked him for not actually biting the student instead of scolding him for the attempt. Very clearly assuming that Shadow Milk only missed out of an intent to, which he doesn’t know exactly how to feel about. The moment does what he needed it to, though, so his thoughts don’t linger long. From then on the curiosity stayed distant gazes and detailed questions, no attempts to touch or requests to hold. It’s easier to leave when they’re keeping a wide berth.

On the way back to the garden, however, Pure Vanilla is caught by another group requesting his help with something or other, and Shadow Milk finds himself stuck spending the afternoon as Pure Vanilla's new living scarf.

At the very least, most cookies are scared of him, and those reactions are amusing. Every time Pure Vanilla tries and fails to return to the garden gets subsequently funnier, as well, Pure Vanilla showing more and more miniscule easy-to-miss signs of frustration throughout the day. Shadow Milk doesn't help, with his quiet mocking commentary, but it's what he needs to survive an entire afternoon with Pure Vanilla.

And it is the entire afternoon, as by the time they're finally able to reach the garden again Shadow Milk has a new understanding of how Vanilla Kingdom handles its affairs in the modern age (with a lot of struggle, chaos, and relying on Pure Vanilla's shoddy guidance,) and the sun has only a sliver visible above the horizon line.

“– it's not as much trouble as you insist, really.” Pure Vanilla is saying, responding to a comment Shadow Milk has been repeating nearly all day, as only just now could Pure Vanilla actually speak to him. The garden is somehow even more beautiful in the evening, though the peaceful setting is the last thing on Shadow Milk's mind. His attention, as he rests draped over his other halfs shoulders, rests solely on tired, drooping mis-matched eyes.

“You didn't even have time to eat dinner!” Shadow Milk cackles, raising his head to draw those eyes to look his way. “You're a workaholic, or maybe just a pushover. Consider this: you, instead of being yoinked around all day by the whims of lesser cookies, you get them to attend to your whims. Sounds fun, right?”

“I do not mind helping others.” Pure Vanilla says, raising a hand to run his knuckles over Shadow Milk's head. A gentle stroke, thoughtlessly provided. “Time may get away from me, but seeing their grateful smiles makes it worthwhile.”

“I'm pretty sure you ancients still starve. Would be pretty boring if all I had to do to get my Soul Jam back was wait for you to keel over from one too many missed meals.” Shadow Milk's tail moves, loosely coiling around the mentioned souljam, feeling it hum in response to his searching prod. Pure Vanilla's lips twitch, the corners upturning for just a moment in an amused quirk. “Even I have a better meal schedule than you.”

“I thought you said you didn't need to eat?” Pure Vanilla asks with a hum, reaching the steps of the gazebo and slowing, as if to draw out these last few moments before Shadow Milk leaves. How silly, what an impossible thought.

“I don't, that's why it's insulting.” Shadow Milk flicks his tongue, eyes narrowing with derision. But then, something catches up with him. He pauses, tilts his head. “I don't believe I've told you that, though. Where'd you get that from?” His dreams, where Shadow Milk did tell him, but Shadow Milk shouldn't know that.

“Don't you remember? It was some time ago, but it was a nice dream.” Pure Vanilla smiles, raising a hand to his cheek as his eyes lightly close, seemingly unaware as Shadow Milk begins to tense. “It was… a little more than a week after your visits started, yes?” He hums again, adjusting his staff in his hand minutely, likely to direct its vision Shadow Milk's way. It takes a few seconds of heavy silence, of one-sided tension before Pure Vanilla makes a small noise and his face falls. “Oh. I wasn't supposed to say that.” He mutters, but the volume means nothing with Shadow Milk close enough for it to sound like cannonfire in his ears regardless.

Shadow Milk writhes, falling off of Pure Vanilla's shoulders too quick to be caught by panicked hands, landing on the stairs in a splash, form splattering into thick, oily shadows that flowed down in thin rivulets, only to gather on the stone path and allow Shadow Milk to reform as strictly himself. His expression is trapped somewhere between an amused grin and a snarl, his hands clasping his staff tightly behind his back.

Pure Vanilla stands at the top of the stairs, his own staff shining to illuminate the scene for lack of sun and lack of moon, one hand pressed to his chest and eyes wide as his mouth falls open, as if planning to explain. But no. No, nononono, no. That's not how this works, now. Shadow Milk's teeth grind, his fists clench tighter, but he doesn't move. Yet.

“You've found out my little games, have you?” He prods, voice light and playful, intonation dancing in leading arcs, a fool may say he sounds cheerful. Pure Vanilla may be a fool, but he isn't that fool, and so he appropriately draws his staff closer, making himself smaller. He's defensive, as is only right. “Tell me, if you've known, then for how long? I'm curious! I'd have thought you smarter than that, really, I mean, giving me free reign to run amok in your mind? There's a lot more than just dreams in there, silly Nilly!” Shadow Milk cackles, tucking his chin down to his chest as he shakes his head.

“I thought it would be a–” Pure Vanilla pauses, gripping his staff tighter as the dim shadows start to stretch, reaching for him. He glances down only briefly at a thin tendril looping around his ankle. “–a good way to get to know you better–!” Pure Vanilla stammers as a sudden tug actually manages to have the strength to move him, making him stumble. “I didn't know when I'd see you again, I just wanted to talk!”

“How long, Nilly~?” Shadow Milk sing-songs, hair writhing, head tilting at an angle which would cause any normal cookie's neck to snap right to pieces. Pure Vanilla frowns, attempts to stand tall, defiantly ignoring the tendrils of eye-filled shadows pooling around his feet.

“I've known since the visits began–” He says, and everything. Stills.

Pure Vanilla blinks, surprised as the shadows shrink back, the tendrils of Shadow Milk’s hair fall inert, Shadow Milk frozen in an unchanging expression. Pure Vanilla is the only thing to move for, well. A good moment. First, he glances around with his useless eyes, then he actually uses his staff to look, before finally he settles back to watching Shadow Milk. A few more seconds, and his hand twitches, starting to reach out– only to freeze again at a new sound.

The laugh builds low in Shadow Milk's throat, growing louder and higher until it’s just as wild and frantic as the winds just moments before, and he finally breaks his stillness just to bury a hand into his hair and grip tightly, as if that'll keep him together. The laugh hurts, sharp pain in his chest and stomach, but it's just impossible to stop.

The whole time.

The whole time!

This endeavor has been useless from the start, he'd been so careful, and for what!

This whole time.

Shadow Milk laughs himself sick, and then beyond, doubling over himself in midair and clutching his hair with both hands now, eyes wide with manic glee. It's just so funny, it's so hilarious that he's somehow ruined everything a second time! He was pushing his limits with this dreaming spell, and all for naught! He could have used that energy to fix the damn food supply! He could have conserved it for a real attempt down the line! He could have–

A gentle touch to his upper arm burns him, reminds him of where he is and who exactly is witnessing this little chuckle he's having, and he doesn't even have to blink before he's flipping backwards into a portal and sealing it behind himself.

Shadow Milk settles himself in the other-realm to drift aimlessly, just until the joke wears off and he could regain his breath. Pure Vanilla could, in theory, follow. He doubts his other– he doubts that fool could figure out how, even knows he could, but it doesn't really change that this is an infinitesimally temporary solution.

Doesn't matter. He'll just sober up and go home. Back at the Spire he'll devote himself to resting, let the minions go back to their routines while he lays in wait for his power to restore itself, forget about Pure Vanilla until it is truly time to face him again. No more dreams, no more plans, no more breakfasts. It'll be boring, lazing around all day like he's Eternal Sugar or something, but it'll be the quickest way to restore himself.

No more dreams, no more plans, no more breakfasts.

No dreams, no plans, no breakfasts.

No dreams, no plans.

No dreams. No dreams. No dreams.

Chapter Text

For the next few days, Shadow Milk learns to block his door with as much of his excess furniture as he can stack.

The minions don't take the news of his resting period well. They'd truly begun to enjoy the treat of his presence too much, they'd grown a reliance he hadn't anticipated. It's good, then, to nip it in the bud now. He tells them that they know how to cook, that they can slice apples just as well as he can, and he closes the door before he can hear another word. It doesn't stop them from incessantly knocking every morning, and didn't stop Candy Apple from breaking through the door herself that first day– hence, the need for a blockade.

He doesn't explain what brought him to this sudden decision, it's not anything they need to know, but he knows they have suspicions. Black Sapphire sat by the door for an evening muttering lowly about their hatred for Pure Vanilla, in any case, so at least he had suspicions. Rumors were apparently all aflutter about the day Pure Vanilla carried a snake with him to aaaaall of his ex-kingly duties, which Shadow Milk could have seen coming. Should have seen coming.

That's the most frustrating thing, the thing that makes him tear apart his pillows, the thing that makes him bite his palms and scratch his arms until they're dripping sweet jam he can't keep from smearing over all the other objects he breaks, the thing that he can't stop thinking about.

He could have guessed this. He should have guessed this. Pure Vanilla was much too aware of his dreaming state much too frequently. Pure Vanilla was much too confident in Shadow Milks inability to take his Soul Jam. Pure Vanilla was much too happy to see him. Pure Vanilla was much too friendly. Pure Vanilla was too sweet. Too cuddly. Too lovely.

Shadow Milk had heaps of evidence to show that Pure Vanilla was more aware than he'd believed, but he ignored every single little piece. He stupidly fell for the most obvious lie Pure Vanilla's ever told, all because… what? He wanted to believe in that silly old fool's sweet kindness? He was just too stubborn to admit he made a mistake? It just didn't matter, because seeing Pure Vanilla was pleasant?

… strike that last one. Actually, strike all of that.

The most frustrating thing is that he was holding back, the entire duration. He wasn't following through on his intended nightmares because a heavy hand would alert Pure Vanilla to his antics much too soon– and then Pure Vanilla had known the entire time! Shadow Milk would have never let things carry on so mildly for so long if he'd known that much. There would have been no tours of the garden, no offers of hot chocolate in a warm tent, no ice skating under the moonlight, no warm hands on his own or heads on his shoulder or concerned faces to peer at him at his lowest.

It would have been better off that way.

(It's bitter, a horrible truth he must admit. Pure Vanilla forced his hand.)

His room is a mess, by the time a full week has passed.

With the rage pulsing through his jam nothing has survived, even his bed has been broken and put back together more times than he can count at this point. Everything else is broken and shattered on the ground, piling up into a junk heap tall enough to cover the door entirely. It's unpleasant, he hates being confined, but he's meant to rest. He won't rest if he leaves, so he has to stay. Simple enough.

Even so, he hasn't slept. He doesn't need to, and the risk of dreaming was still too high, so he simply doesn't. He may have cast the dream sharing spell off, but that doesn't stop Pure Vanilla from rethreading that bond himself. Besides that, his own dreams weren't pleasant on their own either. No dreams means no dreams, so the bed remains only as a place to sit when he's tired of destroying things.

His palms and arms are covered in cracks from his incessant scratching, but most are sealing themselves just fine, even if quite slowly. So when he's truly bored he lays on his back and holds them out, trying to come up with pictures to trace between the cracks. It's hard to do if the wounds were too fresh, the jam blocks the view, but sometimes he still tries, the challenge appealing on the more boring days. It's better than nothing. It's better than that damned tree, where only his mind was reprieve.

It's another few days, the total coming to a week and a half, when there's a knock on the door. Shadow Milk pauses from where he claws at his arms, unlatches his nails and wipes the sweet jam off on his knees as he sits up to watch the junk heap. There's an itch running up his arms, the reason for his most recent tearing, and as the knocks repeat a second time his soul jam pulses along.

It's well past time for breakfast, the minions have already made their daily attempt to draw him out anyhow, so he doesn't know what they could want.

The knocking repeats a third time, louder. More urgent. A flicker builds in his stomach, dies just as quickly. If there's a problem, they can handle it. They lasted thousands of years without him, a couple of weeks is nothing. They don't need him. He just makes their lives easier. He's convenient.

Shadow Milk sneers, flopping back down and digging jam-stained claws into the sheets, covering himself and turning onto his side with a low growl. A fourth set of knocks, and then there's only two seconds between it and the fifth, but then– silence. Blissful, eerie silence.

He digs his claws deeper in the comforter as the silence stretches, that flicker attempting to light again and catching on something he'd thought gone by now. Something thick clogs his throat as he curls in on himself, guilt and worry sinking into his gut like heavy stones.

They'll be fine.

There's not a sixth round of knocks. There's simply silence, and then a full thirty seconds later–

KA-BLOOM!

The shockwave of the explosion rocks Shadow Milk's still-floating bed, jostling it enough that he falls out less-than-gracefully with an equally inelegant scream, and he lands on the ground amongst the scattered debris. Dust covers practically every inch of himself, and he coughs helplessly as the plumes roll over him. He pushes himself up on shaky arms, rolls over to face the door and whichever intruder decided blowing up his wall was a good idea–

His breath catches in his throat, and he's forced into another coughing fit as dust gets stuck in his air tract. Because, that incessant knocking, that explosion, that intruder–

Pure Vanilla steps over the debris delicately, slow and careful steps and staff angled low for him to see his own feet. He doesn't look at Shadow Milk, but his approach undeniably only has one goal. Shadow Milk is too stunned, from the explosion to the fall and then the sight of his other ha– his most detested. He doesn't move, letting Pure Vanilla continue unimpeded.

“Goodness, that caused more of a mess than I expected.” Pure Vanilla says, dusting off his robes as he came to a stop, not very far from Shadow Milk at all. “I'm sorry for that, truly, but I suspect you wouldn't have opened the door.”

Shadow Milk swallows dryly, eyes wide as he stares up at Pure Vanilla. The itch is terrible, unbearable almost, his heartbeat thudding impossibly fast. He bares his teeth in a hateful sneer, but it comes far too late to be believable. “Why would I open the door for you?” He growls.

Pure Vanilla frowns. “I came to clear up any misconceptions.” He says, as if Shadow Milk couldn't guess. “And to…” Pure Vanilla cuts himself off with a gasp, nearly dropping his staff as he hastens to Shadow Milk's side. Just like the dream in the garden, he falls to his knees beside him, but this time there isn't any hesitation to touch jam-soaked, cracking arms. “What happened?!” His voice is sharp with worry, fingers tracing over the wounds feather-light. The gentle touch does nothing to keep Shadow Milk from hissing in pain and displeasure.

“Don't touch me!” He snaps, attempting to tug his arm out of Pure Vanilla's grasp, but the insufferable detestable pasty old fool only tightens his hold. “Get out! How did you even get inside anyways, the spire is sealed for a reason!” He swears, if Pure Vanilla blew up the front door too–

“I may not be as connected to this place as you are, but it recognizes me still. The door opened when I asked.” Pure Vanilla responds, pressing a finger over a deeper crack and wincing in sympathy. Shadow Milk curses and hisses, the prodding burning for more reasons than just the wounds. “I really didn't want to intrude, but I felt I wouldn't get any opportunity to speak with you if I had waited.” The cracks in Shadow Milk's dough start to glow, a gentle golden white light. It was warm, and so soft it was almost ticklish, as the healing magic poured over him. In mere seconds the first arm is fully healed, the second arm just starting, so thorough there weren't even any scars. Pure Vanilla traces over where the worst of the damage had once been anyways, a dim attempt at soothing. “I'm glad to have made that choice. I don't like the thought of you being hurt.”

Shadow Milk snorts derisively, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, right. Save it, Nilly, I don't want to hear whatever it is you trotted all the way here to say. “ He tries to muster up some energy, make a show out of it, tell some lie that Pure Vanilla was being a nuisance interrupting Shadow Milk in the middle of some important work, but it all crumbles before it can take shape. Whether it's the shock of Pure Vanilla's grand entrance having lingering effects or even just the natural repercussions of being dragged out of his isolation so jarringly, his mind just can't seem to work right.

“I mean it. Just as I've meant everything else I have said to you since our dreams started.” Pure Vanilla trails his hands down, touch burning as he clasps Shadow Milk's hand in both of his own. “If anything, my resolve has only solidified. The time we spent in dreams has given me even more reason to desire your friendship.”

“I could care less what you want.” Shadow Milk grumbles, glaring at the dust staining his clothes. He could care less. He wishes he cared less. About a great many things, most pertaining to Pure Vanilla but not exclusive to him. “Those dreams meant nothing.”

“Do you think so?” Pure Vanilla asks gently, tilting his head. It's impossible to look at him, impossible to pull away from his searing touch, impossible for Shadow Milk to answer in the way he wants to. Something clogs his throat every time he tries, every time he finds the words to affirm his statement they falter. It's stupid. He's being stupid. Just lie. It's not that hard.

“... How did you figure it out?” Shadow Milk asks, given he can't manage to answer in a way he deems satisfying or right. At Pure Vanilla's confused hum, his glare moves back to meet his mismatched gaze. “How did you know from the beginning? Was there some sort of tell? Did I somehow not notice a mistake? I haven't figured it out. You're not that clever. There had to be some sign.”

Pure Vanilla pauses, thoughtfully, for just a moment before a small smile stretches across his face. “Well, it's not something I haven't experienced before, for one. But your spellwork was remarkably subtle, I shouldn't have– and wouldn't have– noticed it at all, if it weren't for one small factor.” Shadow Milk leans forward unconsciously, anticipating the reveal of the mistake he'd made, ready to pick apart all of the things he could have done to mitigate it happening in the first place. Pure Vanilla raises a hand, his finger pointing daintily into the air as he smiles just a touch wider. “My nightmares simply stopped.”

Shadow Milk blinks dumbly for a moment, the words processing in his mind.

“What.” He says, voice flat. Pure Vanilla nods, returning his hand to holding Shadow Milk's own, head ducked as he massages small circles into his palm.

“I've… had a lot of trouble sleeping. Mistakes I've made always return to haunt me, and my worst memories seem to be retold as soon as my eyes fall closed.” Pure Vanilla's gentle ministrations pause for a moment as he sighs. “Not every night, but during stressful times…” Pure Vanilla pauses again, humming thoughtfully to himself. “My time in the spire was… Many things. I will admit, your cruelty left its mark, even if I chose to forgive you for it. Ah, I mean your cruelty towards me, rather. I will not forgive you for hurting my friends, or for the other damage you've caused.” He raises his head to look Shadow Milk in the eye with this statement, even if it's worthless. Shadow Milk doesn't care about forgiveness, or any of the schlock Pure Vanilla spews. “The days following my departure were restless. I would dream of you and the spire, of my friends crumbling and the guilt and pain I felt, of the torment you put me through. Until, one night, when you appeared, you were different.”

Pure Vanilla smiles softly, for only a brief moment. Fleeting. “Instead of taunting me with images of my crumbled friends, or dragging me along on puppet strings, or stealing my soul jam and leaving me for dead, or any number of imagined or remembered cruelties, you simply asked why I was there. And I knew then that it was a dream, with striking clarity. Caution alone is what made me check for any spellwork.”

Which would be when Shadow Milk started all of this. He did remember the setting of that first dream being strange, he'd just assumed it was his influence that dropped them in the spire, but to know it was Pure Vanilla's conjuring was interesting. What a way to learn all his efforts were even more pointless than he'd thought, though. If he'd just let him be he'd have driven himself mad with his nightmares.

“I was wary, of course. Knowing it was just a dream, knowing you were the real Shadow Milk, didn't reassure me any one bit. But it became apparent quite quickly that you weren't trying to harm me.” Shadow Milk's brow furrows and he looks away again. No point in correcting that assumption, when did Shadow Milk ever actually make a real attempt at terrorizing Pure Vanilla? How many opportunities did he take? Intent and result are two very different things, and a lack of effort can be taken in whatever way Pure Vanilla wishes to at this point. “You kept coming back, and so I decided that for as long as you kept visiting, I'd keep working to try to prove my sincerity.”

“All while lying the whole time, too.” Shadow Milk tugs his hand away and, now that his wounds were healed and his mind was a little less frazzled, rises into the air to float above Pure Vanilla with a sneer. “What a way to prove your sincerity, really. Working in the most unreliable medium, hiding the fact that you knew I was the real me, tricking me into going along with your whims because it was only a dream–” he growls, fists clenching, before he bites his tongue. Clearly, his mind is still not quite right. That was too honest for him.

“A dream we shared.” Pure Vanilla clarifies, using his staff to help him stand, eyes still trained on Shadow Milk's form. “If we both were real, then what does it matter that our time spent together was all a dream? We both remember it clearly regardless.”

“That's not the point.” Shadow Milk hisses, though he doesn't exactly feel like sharing the exact minutiae of why this has bothered him so much. The problem is nothing to do with the dreams themselves, because dreams lied but they didn't do so intentionally. You can trust a dream to be inconsistent, with the carryover between them the thinnest sliver of truth only out of repetition. A dream can not think to lie with a narrative, but a person?

It all comes down to that, really. Shadow Milk is a fool himself, craving that which he doesn't need and can't have, an understanding no one could provide. Pure Vanilla declares he can, that he wants to, that he will– and in a dream, if it weren't conscious, repeated enough, it may bear a hint of truth. Shadow Milk wanted to believe it, and got burned for it. Again. Because Pure Vanilla can lie, and Shadow Milk will let him, so long as it is what he wants to hear.

Pure Vanilla stares, head tilted just barely. He stands among the detritus and rubble, untouched and clearly out of place. There was a time where Pure Vanilla belonged here, but it's a time that's passed. Pure Vanilla decided to reject that belonging, while in the same breath he lied that they were meant to be together.

It was false when he said it then, and it is false now. There is one thing they are meant for, and it is the total and complete eradication of the other, only one left to reclaim the Soul Jam. If Pure Vanilla believes otherwise he's lying to himself. It may be a sweet lie, but lying is Shadow Milk's business. Nilly should learn to mind his own.

“Shadow Milk,” Pure Vanilla starts, voice soft and low. It grates on Shadow Milk's ears as much as the light that he brings grates on his eyes, and by all means Shadow Milk should cut him off there. Pure Vanilla is an unwelcome guest, and a destructive one at that! He has earned scorn and rejection, at the least. Kicking him out is well within Shadow Milk's rights. “I truly believe we are meant to be together, meant to be friends. But I also believe we must be ourselves for that, and remaining by your side as Truthless Recluse would have been unfair to us both.”

“Truthless Recluse was perfect,” Truthless Recluse was his, “how in the world would that be unfair to me?” Shadow Milk asks incredulously, floating down enough to meet eye-to-eye with his other half. Pure Vanilla smiles.

“Truthless Recluse could never have been happy with you, even if he lied.” Pure Vanilla responds, his delivery gentle even in his bluntness, raising a hand to lightly caress Shadow Milk's cheek, barely a brush of contact. “Would you really be content with that? Knowing your other half hated you more than anything in the world?”

The touch burns hotter than molten iron, but Shadow Milk can not pull away. His words catch in his throat, eyes wide and face warm. What can he say to that, really? Truthless Recluse was his, his for eternity. Did it really matter if the only emotion Shadow Milk ever saw in his dull eyes was loathing? Did he care?

“I want to be your friend, Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla says, guiding Shadow Milk closer to press their foreheads together. “I understand your loneliness, your longing for connection. I want to know you, in your entirety. In our dreams, I learned that I can enjoy your company. I learned that you can make me incredibly happy, and I wish to be able to do the same for you.” Pure Vanilla's eyes close, and his hand falls from Shadow Milk's cheek to instead press gently on Shadow Milk's Soul Jam. It flares with warmth, a pleasant hum thrumming through Shadow Milk's chest, a pulse of want, want, want. “Could you tell me you want anything less?”

Shadow Milk is a greedy cookie. If anything, he wants more. Pure Vanilla, in his entirety. Remaking him into Truthless Recluse had been a process born out of desire to keep him, and admittedly this nightmare scheme was made up out of a desire to see him. Shadow Milk loathes admitting it, but he's also tired of denying it. Wanting Pure Vanilla is as easy as breathing, a hard habit to kick. Like snacking on berries, one little indulgence makes you only crave more.

But Shadow Milk is still a liar. He's glad for it, in this case.

“I…” He clears his throat, mouth suddenly dry, as he slowly sinks to stand on his feet. “I want to be your friend.” It's not the truth, but it's close enough. It's what Pure Vanilla wants to hear in any case.

Pure Vanilla wraps his arms around Shadow Milk in a warm, gentle embrace. Shadow Milk finds himself tucked close, his head nestled under Pure Vanilla's chin, and he bitterly notes that it's comfortable. “Then, please let me be yours.” He says, and Shadow Milk gives one glance to the soul jam the thief wears, raises a hand to graze his fingertips along it and feel the hum and buzz of contented joy, before giving in. He sighs, closes his eyes, and wraps his arms around Pure Vanilla in return.

He knows when a game is lost.

Chapter Text

Emotionally taxing conversations aside, Shadow Milk has a broken down wall to fix and a couple minions to check in on. Maybe some cleaning to do, as well. Waaay too dusty in here.

Mustering up the energy for his usual flippant attitude is hard, but a whooole load easier after a minute or two of cuddling up to his good friend Pure Vanilla Cookie. What does it matter that he's spent almost two whole weeks in a downward spiral of his own making? He's a performer first and foremost! A few little problems aren't going to keep him down for long!

“You really did a number on this place!” Shadow Milk whistles, pushing Pure Vanilla away and rising into the air once again. The hole in the wall is, indeed, much larger than just the door itself. Probably a good six foot circumference there, miraculous it only singed the floors a little bit. Blew away all of the broken furniture, shattered a few of the larger ones into smaller pieces and probably destroyed the smaller ones entirely– eh, doesn’t really matter. It was all fake anyways.

The only real things to ever exist in this room were the Pure Vanilla plushie and the book Pure Vanilla had given him, and they're probably being kept somewhere nice and safe in the Vanilla Kingdom. Everything else was conjured by Shadow Milk, solid illusions (his specialty) with no real purpose other than to fill space. And be broken. Oh, it would be quite funny to let Nilly believe he broke everything himself, instead of admitting it was already wrecked even before his dramatic entrance.

Shadow Milk chuckles to himself as he picks off a few more inches of the wall, a miniscule addition compared to the sheer size of the damage. He glances down at Pure Vanilla, who clings to his staff with tense shoulders and a light flush to his face. Shadow Milk's lips quirk, finding amusement in the shepherd's sheepish regret.

“Aw, embarrassed over your grand entrance? Gotta say, I didn't know you had it in you!” Shadow Milk floats down, circling around Pure Vanilla once or twice, knocking off Pure Vanilla's ridiculous hat with a flick just for fun, before crossing his arms and settling them atop his newly uncovered head. “Really, very impressive, I like the angle you went for, it’s the kind of dramatic entrance an audience swoons over.” Shadow Milk rests his cheek in his arms, legs kicking up behind him like a schoolgirl busy gossiping to her friends at a sleepover.

Pure Vanilla sighs, only making Shadow Milk's already quite wide grin even wider. “I did make a mess, didn't I? I'm sorry. There were likely better ways to get past the door.”

“Probably.” Shadow Milk snickers. “Definitely effective, though. You'll have to make it up to me later, this is going to be such a pain to fix.”

“I would offer to fix it myself, but I imagine there's a reason you're not demanding it of me.” Pure Vanilla tilts his head back, just enough to dislodge Shadow Milk and attempt to meet his eyes.

“Smart cookie.” Shadow Milk coos, pinching Pure Vanilla's cheek for a second before darting back to gesture at the damage with wide arms. “You may have forced your way into a connection with the spire, but you don't know how to use it. Clearly. If you did, you wouldn't have blown a hole in my wall.” Shadow Milk sits back, crossing a leg over his knee and folding his arms behind his head. “I don't want you messing with it, either. It took a lot of work just piecing it back together after your last visit, for all I know you'll just tear the whole thing down again.”

“I can understand your trepidation, but I must assure you I wouldn't intentionally destroy your home.” Pure Vanilla says, picking his way over the debris again to examine the wreckage himself. It’s a very funny claim to make, after he did, indeed, intentionally destroy part of Shadow Milk’s home. “Is there anything you would like me to help with, or have I already overstayed my welcome?”

“You were never welcomed in the first place, Nilly, this is a very blatant breaking and entering offense.” Shadow Milk clarifies, pointing a finger up into the air with a tut. “But if you want to sweep up the dust for me, be my guest! I would never complain about having to do less work.” With a snap of his fingers a broom drops onto the ground before Pure Vanilla, making him flinch back at the sudden clatter. “Oh, I'll get the other stuff out of your way first.” With another snap, the furniture scraps poof off back into nothingness. “Just don't bother me while I'm working on the wall, ‘kay? That means, keep quiet, by the by.” With that, he turns away from Pure Vanilla to focus on the task at hand.

By all means, repairing the wall should just be a matter of mere thought. The spire was an extension of Shadow Milk himself, after all, manipulating it to his whims was as easy as twitching a finger. Key word: was. When Pure Vanilla did his little trick, he broke quite a few things. Shadow Milk keeps an extensive list, and it grows longer by the day it seems.

The spire is a weird case; it's still tied to Shadow Milk, it still goes along with his whims, but to change it has become harder. It's more rigid, it resists Shadow Milk's attempts to twist paths in more convenient ways. It has a pathing and floorplan it likes to drift back to, almost the same as it had been prior to his fall. It's still ever-shifting, it may have habits now but it never stays the same for longer than an hour, but it's never been as slow as it is now.

Before Pure Vanilla, Shadow Milk wouldn't have even had to think about it. The wall would have fixed itself within minutes of the initial blow. But now, it wants to follow rules. Shadow Milk can convince it to break them again, but it'll take time and energy. Energy he doesn't have, but he'll manage just fine.

He presses a hand against the wall, and closes his eyes to focus. Pure Vanilla, at least, makes it easier on him by taking his request for silence seriously. It feels ridiculous, having to fight this hard for one small change, but what's done is done. He'll chew Pure Vanilla out for it later; it'll definitely work to make the sap even more apologetic. Serves him right. Blowing up the wall was a severe overreaction. He’s lucky he didn’t draw any unpleasant attention from the other residents; they probably heard the explosion and assumed it was Shadow Milk acting as a one-man demolition team once again, but imagine if they’d thought to check it out! Nilly would have been torn to shreds.

He doesn't know how long it takes, exactly, before he feels the wall give and shift. Too long, probably, but that’s a given. He pulls his hand back and immediately is hit with an intense wave of vertigo; to save himself from potential disaster, he drifts to the floor. He stumbles when his feet land, legs trembling like jelly as his floating spell dissipates without his dismissal, but he's caught before he can truly fall. “Jeez, I'm more out of it than I thought.” He grumbles, rubbing his eye with his palm in an attempt to quell the throbbing of his head.

Pure Vanilla's hands grip his shoulders tighter, for just a second, as he helps to get Shadow Milk steady on his own feet once again. “Are you okay?” He asks, concern flooding out of him in such thick waves Shadow Milk swears he'd be able to tear it to pieces.

“Just dandy, Nilly.” Shadow Milk responds, frowning when it comes out a lot flatter than he'd intended. “Whatever. Doesn't matter. How long did that take?” He glances around the room, humming something pleased when he sees the remaining mess cleaned up already. Pure Vanilla made a good housemaid, apparently. And put on that stupid hat again. There's no accounting for taste, apparently, even with Shadow Milk giving his oh-so valuable opinion.

“It's… been an hour, at least.” Pure Vanilla responds, uncertain. The worst of the vertigo has passed, there's still a terrible ache in his dough and a throbbing headache to pair, but Shadow Milk’s never quite not aching nowadays. It's manageable, is what he means. He cautiously pulls away from Pure Vanilla's hold and rises into the air again. Thankfully, it doesn't hurt any worse than normal, so he pushes all of that to the side and stretches out his limbs with an exaggerated yawn. “I didn't quite keep track.”

“Don't you have places to be? Losing track of time in this place is a bad idea.” A less bad idea than it used to be. Again, a lot of how the spire functions has changed since Pure Vanilla was last around, time being a tad more consistent was definitely one of them. Shadow Milk flies out of the slowly-sealing hole in the wall, hearing Pure Vanilla's staff tap tap tapping on the tile as he follows after him. “Can't imagine your friends were very gung-ho about letting you crawl here on your own.” Shadow Milk pauses, turning to face Pure Vanilla with a scowl. “How many pests are scurrying around looking for you?”

“Here?” Pure Vanilla asks, as if it wasn't obvious. “None. They don't know I'm here. I didn't say any more than I was going to be visiting a friend.”

“Technically a lie. We weren't friends when you broke in.” It's a good enough answer, though, for Shadow Milk to continue moving. “And also by omission, too, really.”

“Would you have rather I told the whole truth?” Pure Vanilla asks with a light chuckle. Shadow Milk rolls his eyes and scoffs, coming to a stop in front of a door. Their destination, or, his destination that Pure Vanilla happened to follow him to. Pedantics, really.

“Don't get smart with me, Nilly. This whole friendship deal is still on veeery thin ice.” Shadow Milk chides, waving for Pure Vanilla to go ahead of him as the door swings open. It's polite, or whatever. Also a good buffer if he accidentally stumbles into his minions. He'd rather let Pure Vanilla take the brunt of their emotional overflow.

“Oh, of course. I would truly hate to lose it, given how long it's taken.” Pure Vanilla chuckles again, flashing a brief, toothy smile he half covers with his hand before disappearing through the door. Ugh. Shadow Milk schools his face into something thoroughly unamused before flitting in after him. “I don't think I've seen this room before.”

“You haven't. I doubt you've seen even a tenth of the rooms the spire has, but you definitely never saw a single kitchen.” Shadow Milk floats over Pure Vanilla's head, flicking at his hat again to send it tilting to cover his eyes. He lands on the counter, his usual spot at meal time, and opens the drawer of the counter beside him to reach down and take out a package of blueberries. He crosses his legs and tosses a few into the air to catch in his mouth, letting out a pleased hum at the taste. “This one's also for arts and crafts, for when cooking gets boring, you know? So I can sew as I slice jellies.”

“I see.” The light in Pure Vanilla's staff shifts, as if scanning the room. Probably is. Pure Vanilla definitely sounded curious. “Do you cook often?” He asks, stepping closer to the counter and opening a cabinet to peer inside. All he gets to see is an endless shadow, but still! Rude.

“Ah, ah! No snooping!” Shadow Milk tuts, waving a hand to have the cabinet slam closed. Pure Vanilla hardly flinches, that time. Shadow Milk must be losing his edge. That, or Pure Vanilla is starting to expect these things. Hm. “More often now, really. Just breakfast, but Candy has been really desperate trying to convince me to join them for dinner, too.” Pure Vanilla doesn't try to open the cabinet again, seemingly content to just move closer, sidle into Shadow Milk's personal space. Really, he just stands beside him, not even that close, but still. If Shadow Milk shifted ever so slightly, his knee would brush Pure Vanilla's hip. Not that he was paying that much attention, or particularly cared.

Pure Vanilla hums, tilting his head in that somewhat-endearing manner of his and raising a finger to his chin. “Apologies, but… it's quite hard to imagine. I can picture you crafting your puppets and sewing a doll, but preparing a meal seems… unusual for you.”

Shadow Milk immediately scowls, gripping the blueberry package tightly as he sets it down in his lap. “Are you doubting my capabilities?” He accuses, pointing threateningly in Pure Vanilla's face. Pure Vanilla holds his hands up in surrender, smiles softly.

“Not quite, merely trying to fit this into my understanding of you.” He says, but Shadow Milk can see it in his amused little gaze, he doubts. That won't do! Shadow Milk takes pride in his skills, and he wont have Pure Vanilla insult him so brazenly!

Shadow Milk huffs, closing the package before tossing it into a cabinet that swings itself open and shut again, hops off the counter and into the air as he conjures a hair tie to pull his hair back. “Sit at the table! I'll show you, I'm an excellent cook!” He snaps, and he doesn't even wait for Pure Vanilla to react before a chair comes to sweep his other half out of the way.

The cabinets fly open and shut in a veritable whirlwind, ingredients being pulled from wherever was simply closest as he tears through the kitchen. He's not put so much effort into a meal in ages– breakfasts were easy, they were lighter meals just meant to start the day, and he kept them simple even if he knew more complicated recipes because Black Sapphire often had difficulty eating anything too flavorful when he first woke up; this, compared to those, is not even apples to oranges. Now it's a matter of pride.

It's, maybe, a bit of a waste, given their limitations and how long it's been since they last went to the market. But he could, simply, make enough for the minions as well, they should be in the library, it'd be simple to deliver to them. After Pure Vanilla leaves, though. He doesn't want to deal with the headache of explaining why, exactly, he's here.

Pure Vanilla watches Shadow Milk work with his chin resting on his interlaced fingers, mismatched eyes taking in the very literal blur as he smiles something overly fond and amused. Shadow Milk does his best to ignore it. He refuses to think about it, pushes it away and out of his mind and attributes the heat on his face to the heat of the stove. (It's stupid, it's stupid, Pure Vanilla can't even see with those stupid, pretty eyes of his! Why does he insist on pretending otherwise?! Why does Shadow Milk let it bother him so much?!)

In very little time at all (nearly thirty minutes, give or take) Shadow Milk is able to divide the meal onto three plates, careful to keep the presentation clean and artful. Only once he deems it good enough does he mutter a spell to keep Candy Apple and Black Sapphires servings warm and fresh, take Pure Vanilla's plate into his hand, and deliver it with a flourishing bow.

“Eat it and weep, Nilly! Be sure to tip well, send compliments to the chef, admit how utterly wrong you were to question my ability– all of that, thank you!” After presenting the plate and setting it on the table before Pure Vanilla with a flourishing bow, Shadow Milk returns to his place on the counter. Leaning forward with his hands gripping the edge for balance, he grins as he watches for Pure Vanilla's reaction. It's nothing truly complex, considering he didn't want to take hours on this, but Jellie Marsala definitely wasn’t a skilless dish. Shadow Milk had mastered it millenia ago, of course, but he'd been incredibly proud once he had, and Eternal Sugar had been– er. He shakes the thought away, frowning.

“Did you not prepare some for yourself?” Pure Vanilla asks. For whatever reason, he has yet to take a bite.

“I don't need to eat, silly Nilly, why would I make an extra plate?” Shadow Milk tilts his head, eyes narrowed. “And don't you get onto me about skipping meals, that'd make you both a fool and a hypocrite.”

“I'll refrain,” Pure Vanilla says, “Though I do believe that after working so hard on it, trying a single bite is the least you've earned.” Finally, Pure Vanilla picks up his fork and scoops up what constitutes a very small bite. He lifts it up with a smile, a hand cupped underneath it as he holds it out in offer. “We can share. I don't think I could eat such a generous serving on my own, anyways.”

“That is a very average serving size, you just don't eat as much as you should.” Shadow Milk sniffs, crossing his arms with a scowl. “Very rude, actually, for a guest to refuse a meal. Especially one your gracious host made for you with his own two hands!”

Pure Vanilla shakes his head fondly before drawing his offered fork back. “I'm not refusing the meal, I am well aware how special it is to have you cook for me. It's merely a forewarning, I suppose.” He blows gently on the forkful that was almost certainly cool enough by now, and then with delicate grace he takes his first bite. Immediately he brightens, eyes wide and shimmering, covering his mouth with his hand as he chews in delighted surprise.

“Amazing, right?” Shadow Milk goads, floating closer to get a better look at Pure Vanilla's expression. It's evident he's enjoying the food, but the pure wonder in his star-shine bright eyes is something worth studying. “Perfect, even? I told you, I'm an excellent cook, probably the best in all of Earthbread!”

Pure Vanilla is quick to scoop up another bite, closing his eyes as he savors the taste with a pleased hum. “It's really, really good.” He says, after swallowing the second bite. He's already starting to scoop up a third, despite his lackluster compliment it's clear just how much he's understating things. “Although, there's something a bit odd about it.”

Shadow Milk's grin twitches into a frown for a moment before he smoothly recovers. “Odd? Odd, like, how odd it is that it's literally the best thing you've ever eaten?” He prods, poking Pure Vanilla in the shoulder as he takes another bite. Pure Vanilla hums again, something uncertain.

“Odd, like… oh, I just can't describe it, but it's… not terrible, certainly. Just strange.” Pure Vanilla pauses on the fourth bite, rotating his fork as if examining it. “There's barely a hint of something unpleasant, I suppose? An odd aftertaste. It is wonderful, of course, and I'm incredibly grateful you saw fit to make this for me. It would be perfect, if not for that oddness.”

“You're lying.” Shadow Milk responds, squinting suspiciously as Pure Vanilla goes back for his next bite. “I have the recipe perfectly memorized, I could make this dish with my eyes closed while I'm directing a stageplay, I have spent decades perfecting it! There's no way there's anything wrong with it!”

“No, no, there isn't. Nothing wrong, just odd.” Pure Vanilla insists, infuriatingly cheerful, quick to wave a hand in placating motion as he prepares his next bite. Only this time, when he begins to raise the fork to his mouth, Shadow Milk snatches it out of his hand.

The taste is exactly as he remembers. Exactly the way he's always made it, since being handed the recipe to perfect. There's no odd aftertaste, only the smooth and rich flavors of marsala sauce. Even without using a wine from Eternal Sugar’s nesting grounds the flavor is exactly right. It's beyond good, it's amazing, a testament to his brilliance, something only he could make. It's good, really good, and he dimly regrets not preparing a plate for himself now…

Pure Vanilla hums, something cheerful and prideful, and Shadow Milk's eyes snap to look at him once more. He looks amused, cradling his head in his palms as he stares at Shadow Milk with a smug little smile. Immediately, Shadow Milk feels his lips twist into a scowl. He's been had.

Shadow Milk points threateningly at him with the fork, but Pure Vanilla is still content as the cat that got the cream. “You…”

“Me…?” Pure Vanilla says, tilting his head, the picture definition of angelic innocence. Shadow Milk growls, stabbing the fork onto the plate and “returning” it before crossing his arms petulantly.

“There's nothing odd about the food.” Shadow Milk grumbles. Pure Vanilla hums again.

“No, there isn't.” He agrees, picking up the fork once more. “It's amazing, I've never had anything like it before. I, ah, suppose what was odd was that you came to the kitchen to eat, and yet you didn't make yourself a plate.”

“No point. I don't need food, and we don't exactly have unlimited stores anymore. Your fault, by the way, so. Thank you, Nilly.” Shadow Milk rolls his eyes, steamrolling right over Pure Vanilla's attempts to question that comment. “You're so annoying, after I was so kind and generous, let's not mention how forgiving after that whole wall-exploding debacle, and then you turn around to try to convince me I'd somehow messed up the meal!” Shadow Milk presses the back of his hand to his temple, leaning back with a lamenting sigh. “So cruel, Nilly, it's unbelievable.”

“If you had prepared yourself a plate of your own, this wouldn't have happened.” Pure Vanilla chides softly, offering another full forkful for Shadow Milk to take. Insufferable. Stubborn. Kind. Ugh.

Shadow Milk pushes Pure Vanilla's hand back by the wrist, but relents by conjuring another fork. “Don't think this'll work again. I'm wise to your tricks now, Nilly!” He resents that Pure Vanilla managed to fool him once again, but at the very least this isn't… as terrible as it could be. He just needs to stop letting his guard down. He's smarter than this.

It isn't long before the plate is cleared, and despite Pure Vanilla's offer to clean the mess Shadow Milk is quick to hurry him back outside. Neither of them know the time, and Nilly has people waiting for him. The last thing Shadow Milk wants are angry cookies storming his spire again, he's well and truly drained. So it means that it's time to say goodbye to dear Nilly, until chance brings them together again. Just because Shadow Milk finally relented on withholding his friendship didn't mean he'd actively seek Pure Vanilla out.

He says as much, when they arrive at the exit, floating well out of reach to keep Pure Vanilla from doing his little physical affection trick. Shadow Milk loathes how much it affects him, and he'd rather stay staunch on this point.

But it seems that Pure Vanilla's touch wasn't needed when his unseeing eyes can look so big and sad, his frown oh-so small but stark on his expression nonetheless. “You won't even visit in my dreams? They've become something I look forward to.” He asks, disappointment rich in his tone. He looks so utterly pitiful it's annoying, and Shadow Milk finds his resolve crumbling faster than it should. He's too tired, too exhausted to put up much of a fight.

“We'll see. I'm a busy busy busy guy, have a lot to do, lots to catch up on after this eensy little break. Maaaaybe, if I have time, I'll drop by.” Shadow Milk responds, pretending to check his nails just to get his eyes off the baleful shepherd. He sneaks one short glance, though, at Pure Vanilla's expression after his answer. His smile is too bright, the shine in his eyes too happy, for the distinct lack of answer from Shadow Milk. He radiates like a miniature sun come down to Earthbread, and yet the warmth Shadow Milk feels on his face is almost certainly only partially his fault.

Pure Vanilla is content enough with that, and they part ways. Shadow Milk has his minions to manage, and Pure Vanilla has friends to reassure. Getting him out of the spire as soon as possible was paramount. Still, the moment the pulsing of his souljam dulls with distance, he feels an ache come to replace it.

A quick journey to the kitchen to retrieve the magically-fresh meals, and then he's on the arduous path to the library. Remarkably, it's a lot less of an ordeal than usual; less pitfalls and traps along the way, the halls shorter and less winding. It's convenient, but it also shortens the time he has to prepare some sort of excuse for his absence. Of course, he owes the pair no explanation, but they would likely get disagreeable and clingy if he fails to provide. He only barely has mere figments of ideas of what to say when he reaches the doors.

It's not a problem, however. When he steps inside he notes the lights of the library are dimmed, and the usual noise of the two bickering over passages they'd been reading is nowhere to be heard. Once again, a thrum of what he can not deny is worry runs through him, but it settles into a warm relief when he scans the room and catches sight of two hunched forms nestled together.

He sighs as he floats closer, checking them over with careful eyes before tutting quietly. The food is tucked away into the same shadowy space the rest of their supply sits in, to wait until the next day. He's not going to wake them, when it's clear by their rumpled clothes and the dark circles under their eyes that they've been spending much too much time reading the books. It isn't comfortable sleeping hunched over a table with mere pages as a pillow, he knows that well from experience, and it certainly won't be restful.

It's an investment in their productivity. If they don't rest well, they won't work well. That is all.

He moves slowly, using magic to gently remove Candy Apple from her place, tucked under Black Sapphire's arm and fists loosely clenched in his suit jacket, tugging her away carefully even as she tiredly whines and reaches back to cling tighter.

She'll wake up at this rate, so needy. This is likely why she kept so many plushies, he assumes. Shadow Milk hoists her up into his arms, lets her tuck herself close. Only when she settles in and relaxes properly does he wave a hand to start lifting Black Sapphire.

He's harder to move, without waking. He's a light sleeper by habit, and waking him gets unpleasant for everyone involved. Shifting him into a more comfortable position for travel has to be even more painstakingly slow, and even then Shadow Milk has to pause when he starts to stir. But he manages. He's thankful the Spire is working with him today; their rooms end up just down the hall, and the doors swing open for him before they're even reached.

He ducks into Candy Apple's room first, leaving Black Sapphire floating in the hall. He peruses her vast collection of plushies, most of them abandoned projects of his she shoddily frankensteined to completion, with one notably worn and highly favored plush that was, assumedly, all the best pieces from his many, many plush selfs he's crafted, torn edges sewn together with red thread. It's, really, a little bit much.

He ends up finding a little half-made rabbit, lacking its limbs and one of its ears. The thread sewing the holes for would-be limbs shut is lopsided and messy, but it's a cute attempt. He makes note that he could, perhaps, teach her how to sew properly. After making sure she wouldn't go overboard with it. She's been marginally less uncomfortably devoted lately, though, so… maybe. It's a thing to consider. For the future.

In any case, he takes up the rabbit and hurries to bundle the little menace in bed, making sure she’s clung to her plush before pulling up the blanket and giving her a soft pat on the head for good measure. The transfer seems to have been accepted, and she doesn't seem to stir, so he carefully flits his way out of the room and slowly, quietly closes the door.

Black Sapphire is going to be harder to handle. His room is, well, not a mess, but it's certainly cluttered. Getting him through it without touching anything would be difficult, and ordinarily would not be worth the trouble. But if Black Sapphire woke up, he'd almost certainly make enough noise that Candy Apple wakes up, and then all of the noise from that is going to give Shadow Milk a bigger headache than he already has. So Shadow Milk begins the painstaking process of crossing Black Sapphire's room, biting his tongue to keep himself from making too much noise.

It takes too long to finally set Black Sapphire in his bed, but eventually it is done. Black Sapphire is slowly, gently nestled into his bed, and Shadow Milk is able to pull his blankets over to cover him. For a moment it seems as if the mission was a striking success. No minions awoken, book-imprinted faces avoided, delightful for all parties involved. Only thing left to do is make a quick, quiet egress, and pretend this never happened.

Unfortunately, in his eagerness to escape, it seems he moves too quickly. Black Sapphire stirs, making Shadow Milk freeze, quickly backing away to avoid being caught doing something so silly as tucking in his minions. They're not toddlers, they don't need tucking in, it's ridiculous.

“Candy…?” Black Sapphire croaks, voice dry and hoarse with sleep. His eyes blearily blink open, and he pushes himself up with one hand enough to look around, very clearly confused as to why he's not in the library. And then, after a few seconds of luck at not being spotted brings hope to full bloom, his eyes catch on Shadow Milk. “Sh-Shadow Milk…?!” He gasps, eyes suddenly wide as he tries to shoot upright.

Shadow Milk shushes him, glancing back at the open door briefly before glaring down. “Go back to sleep, Saph.” He whispers, placing a hand on his minions shoulder to guide him back to laying down. Black Sapphire is still too out of it to fight it, it seems, but his brow is furrowed.

“Master Shadow Milk… what…” He starts, only for Shadow Milk to shush him again. “But… the book…” He cuts himself off that time, with a yawn.

“You don't learn if you're tired, cramming isn't going to teach you anything but how to increase your chances of getting a headache.” Shadow Milk smiles, as Black Sapphire's eyes start to droop. “We'll talk about the books in the morning, okay? After you rest and get some food, you'll actually be able to remember what you read.” Black Sapphire's eyes slip closed once again, as he slowly nods along. Shadow Milk grants him a gentle head pat as well, for being so obedient. That was much easier than he'd expected, Black Sapphire must've been really out of it.

“G'night.” Black Sapphire's voice is barely audible, muffled in his pillow as he turns onto his side to sleep, but the parting words are appreciated.

“Nighty-night, Sapphy! Dream up something sweet, got it?” Shadow Milk whispers back, getting a sleepy hum in response. With that, he leaves, closing the door even more carefully than before. He stands there for a moment, listening for any stirring, and only once he is certain that Black Sapphire is down for the count does he take his hand off the doorknob.

With the minions tucked away, what else needs doing? He can think up a list, but… truthfully, he's tired too. He doesn't need sleep, but that doesn't mean there aren't any tangible benefits to it. He can't imagine Pure Vanilla would be asleep so soon, he's just left not all that long ago after all, but… maybe he could lie down, at least. He needs to make sure that the wall is finished repairing itself, anyhow.

He drifts around a corner, only to find the corridor dead end there. Huh. His brow furrows, but it doesn't take long for him to identify his door. It's not often the spire leads him to an end in the path, but it's as good a sign as any that he's got to actually rest. Plus, it means the wall is definitely fully repaired! A win is a win.

His newly emptied, freshly cleaned room is not even a shadow of what it once was. It's returned to the state it had been in when he'd started his dreams with Nilly, which is perhaps not an entirely bad thing. Varies on interpretation. There is one, infinitesimally small difference, though.

His bed rests on the ground now. It likely drifted down while he was fighting with the wall, or maybe Nilly had something to do with it. Either way, it's displeasing. Shadow Milk likes to enjoy the view down, after all, so he quickly flicks his wrist and sends it back up into the air before rising to join it himself. That's when he notices the other, small little detail. Or two.

On his bed lay a pair of familiar items. A single book, unblemished and unread, and a little plush Pure Vanilla Cookie. Only, a small, unbloomed vanilla orchid is pinned in the little plush's hat. Shadow Milk scoffs.

“That sappy, sentimental fool.” He shakes his head, drifting the bed closer to the still-remaining shelf to place the book in its rightful place, though when he picks up the plushie to place it with it, he pauses. The scent of vanilla, calming and pleasant, drifts from the toy, and even once the vanilla orchid is plucked off the hat the scent remains. He sets the orchid aside, onto the shelf and tucked safely behind the book, and peers down at the plushie with wide eyes.

Never did he actually imagine Pure Vanilla returning it. Especially not in such good condition. Especially after they became something like friends. Today was a day filled with impossible scenarios, it seems.

He flops into his bed, laying on his side with hair flared out around him, eyes all focused on the little doll still resting in his hands. He rubs the doll's little mimicked souljam with his thumb, a thoughtless little movement as his mind wanders.

Perhaps… he should take a page out of Candy Apple's book. He dislikes sleeping so much because dreaming was unpleasant, but she's only ever had the sweetest of experiences. Perhaps it was due to the dolls she clung to. It's… worth testing. Just to figure it out.

He sighs, clutching the plush to his chest in a hug, curling up around it tightly. He lets the dreaming spell slip past his lips, quietly uttered for only himself to hear, and closes his eyes. It's just to see. Just to learn. Just…

Slowly, slowly, he drifts off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Shadow Milk hums as he prepares breakfast, a thoughtless, wholly original tune that may come off as a bit too cheery, given circumstances. He woke up earlier than usual, from a dreamless sleep that while unexpected wasn't unpleasant in the least, and so he had more time than usual to put something together for his dear devotees. It's in part to distract them from his absence, but also simply for the fun of it. Cooking is… something special, even if not his favorite thing in the world.

French toast, sugary and cinnamon-y goodness, drenched in powdered sugar and candied strawberries– minus the strawberries for Black Sapphire, that may be too sweet for him this early– with a selection of syrups, for those who have even more of a sweet tooth. He also prepares some candied apple slices, as a snack for later, and fills glasses with milk. (For such a sweet breakfast, juice would be too much.) He's in the middle of whisking a bowl of cream for his own plate, he prefers it to sugar, when a body collides into him with remarkable force. If he were standing, it would have most certainly knocked him over, but it's simple to keep momentum from affecting his levitation whenever he so chooses.

“Shadow Milk Cookie!” Candy Apple wails, squeezing him tightly as if he would vanish the moment she let go. She babbles something incoherent through her tears, which steadily soak his clothes the longer she clings to his side. Gross.

“Good morning, Candy.” Shadow Milk sighs, letting go of the whisk to pat her on the head briefly before returning to his work. “Go ahead and start eating. Your breakfast is going to get cold if you don't hurry!”

“B-but, I missed you! You can't leave again! I won't allow it!” She whines, fists curling tighter in his clothes as she pulls herself even closer, somehow. “I'm never leaving your side again, ever! Nothing will ever take you from me!” Ah. Seems he spoke too soon at the “getting less strange lately” thing.

“You're making him uncomfortable, stop that.” Black Sapphire's sudden appearance is not much of a surprise, neither is the skillful way he plucks Candy Apple's hands off and drags her by the scruff back to her chair. “We have to be careful. We don't want to chase him away ourselves, right?” He hisses, voice so quiet Shadow Milk suspected he wasn't meant to overhear. Hm.

Candy Apple huffs, crossing her arms petulantly, but she doesn't immediately jump back to her feet. Somehow, Black Sapphire is a voice she listens to now. Just what in the world has happened in the past couple weeks that hasn't been able to occur in hundreds of years?

“Good morning to you too, Sapphy!” Shadow Milk crows, grinning as he checks his work. The cream forms stiff peaks when he removes the whisk, and when he licks the utensil to check the taste it's appropriately light and sweet. Perfect! “I want to hear about your progress with that book, by the way! You have been working on that, haven't you?” They have, otherwise he wouldn't have found them in the library, but he waits for their response anyways as he dollops the whipped cream atop his own plate.

“We have. But I would like to ask–” Shadow Milk pauses in his efforts to pour a mountain of blueberries on top of his sweet, fluffy mess of a dish to whirl around before Black Sapphire can continue.

“Great! Have you found anything, learned anything? Do you have questions pertinent to the topic?” He strains, giving Black Sapphire a pointed look as he grins.

They stare at each other for a moment, Black Sapphire's eyes narrowed in a silent challenge. Shadow Milk knows what he wants to ask, because obviously they'd have questions about his prolonged resting period, but he doesn't have adequate answers prepared. He can't think of anything they didn't have evidence to disprove, and trying to work around that stipulation will only bring him dangerously close to admitting the truth. That is the last thing he wants, so his best shot is distracting them until the event passes from their mind entirely.

Stubborn as he can be, Black Sapphire does back down. Whether it's because he was truly giving up or simply because he decided other means of receiving answers would be more productive hardly matters. “We found the book with the restoration magic,” Black Sapphire begins.

“But a rabbit took it from us!” Candy Apple interjects, standing on her chair and shaking her fists. “I chased it down, but by the time I caught up–”

“It was illegible.” Black Sapphire tugs Candy Apple back down to sit, giving her an annoyed glare and gesturing to her plate. Candy Apple takes the hint, but she does stick her tongue out at him to make her displeasure known. “So, we have no means of repairing the books we find. And the rabbits, if you couldn't guess, have burrowed in again. They were quite aggressive while you were gone, it was very strange.”

Shadow Milk hums thoughtfully. It would be strange. The rabbits were meant to be docile towards the residents, maybe mischievous too but not anywhere near aggressive. He'll have to keep an eye on them… and presumably, destroy their burrows once again.

“Well, that's certainly a problem for you, isn't it?” No restoration spells means their original punishment went from possible but painstakingly time consuming to impossible wholesale, which isn't what Shadow Milk intended out of this ordeal.

He most certainly has other restorative spells, but none that were beginner friendly. And despite their talents, his followers were most certainly beginners. It was all too likely that was the only copy of the book he had– oh. A copy.

“Good thing we have errands to run! I believe I know a place where we can find that book, if you are lucky.” Shadow Milk grins, even as Candy Apple and Black Sapphire exchange uneasy glances.

~

“You are way too heavy for this.” Shadow Milk grumbles, adjusting his grip and hoisting Candy Apple up higher on his back, trying his hardest not to drop her even with the ache settling deep in his dough already. It is certainly not helped by the fact that “Yogurt Swirl Cookie” decided to wear heels today, even if they were only a mere inch high. The pain fashionable style brings is not one to sniff at, to be sure. He should have thought twice about it, however, given context. He’s already not feeling great, given his recovery from overexertion yesterday was always going to be slow.

But to leave the spire means to leave in disguise, especially when out on an errand run with the minions. None of them were exactly welcome as themselves. And he’s not the only one with a minor costume change! Candy Apple is in her own disguise, Apple Seed Cookie, with her apple seed braids tied up into little bows on either side of her head because every time she'd whip her head around before they were tied up she'd end up whacking him in the face with them.

“We could have left her at home. Would have been a more pleasant experience for all parties,” Black Sapphire says matter-of-factly. Candy Apple once again whips her head around, this time to level a glare hot enough to burn wood at him and stick her tongue out once more. It's childish, and unbecoming given their disguises, but Shadow Milk simply clicks his tongue in mild disapproval, making no effort to make them act like nobility. The story they had prepared isn't affected either way, so he lets them be.

“You're just jealous you aren't getting Yogurt Swirl's full attention.” Candy Apple sniffs, wrapping her arms even tighter around Shadow Milk's neck. Not tight enough to suffocate him yet, at the least. Still unpleasant. “Why don't you run along and get started shopping, Pippy.”

“Do not call me that,” Black Sapphire seethes. His disguise is beyond simple, just exchanging his usual suit for something a lot more casually elegant and modern, slicked back hair, and a loss of his earrings. With his wings hidden, he looks different enough that it shouldn't be an issue. Regardless of that, it's the Hollyberry kingdom, and they know nothing about the servants of Beasts firsthand, or perhaps even not at all. It's not a look he enjoys, regardless, and the name Shadow Milk had picked on a whim grated on his nerves quite spectacularly. Especially once Shadow Milk jokingly called him “Pippy”, and Candy Apple decided to run with it. “And we're sticking together this time.”

“Right you are, Pip.” Shadow Milk nods along, even as Candy Apple grumbles her disappointment. “We're playing a slow game today.” With a larger group, it's harder to steal. That is, until you start using fake coin. It's a simple enough illusion to cast, and Shadow Milk wasn't getting rid of pest one and pest two for a while yet.

That had been the stipulation for this trip, rather. Candy Apple had thrown a bit of a fit and almost refused to go if she couldn't keep an eye on Shadow Milk the entire time, making sure that he didn't disappear or get accosted by the ancients again. Black Sapphire had also thrown his opinion out there, basically agreeing with her. So there would be no splitting up, and because she wasn't convinced it was enough, Candy Apple had wheedled her way into getting carried by Shadow Milk all day. Even he could not understand exactly how she'd managed that feat.

The market in the Hollyberry Kingdom was just as busy and crowded as it had been the last time they'd been there, and just as hectic too. Black Sapphire stuck close as Shadow Milk led the way through the throngs of people, going from stall to stall. Illusory coin is traded for bushels of produce Black Sapphire tucks into a messenger bag slung over his shoulder as Shadow Milk chats with the market cookies around them, wheedling even better deals with easy charm. Candy Apple helps with that, her eager excitement and cute face getting more family-oriented cookies to give discounts for “such a sweet family”.

It's slower than simply taking everything, prices need to be discussed and haggled even if Shadow Milk could conjure however much coin they may need– they had an image to upkeep, after all. But it's an enjoyable trip nonetheless, even when Shadow Milk has to find a place to sit much much sooner with how his legs and arms ache.

“We're about a fourth of the way through the list…” Black Sapphire recounts, pacing in front of the bench Shadow Milk has claimed for a brief rest, back and forth and back and forth as he taps his chin with a finger and glares holes through the paper he carried. Candy Apple groans in boredom, head tucked against Shadow Milk's side as she leans all her weight against him. She didn't appreciate being set down one bit, but Shadow Milk is certainly not going to indulge her again. Miss Yogurt Swirl is not that strong of a cookie. “At this rate, we won't have any time to reach that bookshop before the sun goes down!”

“We could forget about the book, you know. I can't see why you want so badly to go to a stuffy, smelly bookshop.” Candy Apple crosses her arms, face scrunching up. “We wouldn't be taking so long if you didn't walk so slow!”

“Me?!” Black Sapphire whips his head around to glare at her. Shadow Milk rolls his eyes with a tired sigh. They really truly were like siblings, weren't they? He'd thought it was a simple lie when he came up with it, but it seems more and more like the truth by the day. “If you would walk at all we'd be flying through this list! We should have left you behind, you didn't want to come anyways!”

“I so did want to come! I just didn't want to lose my precious Ma– Miss Yogurt Swirl again!” Candy Apple sits up, hands clenched into trembling fists at her sides. Her eyes narrow. “Who knows what nasty, pasty, dull ancients are wandering around…” She mutters, glaring over their surroundings with a dark expression.

“You don't have to cling to her like some parasite to achieve that!” Black Sapphire retorts, grinding his teeth. Candy Apple hops to her feet, hand raising as if preparing to grab her apples to throw– very fortunate she didn't have those– which was as good a sign as any that Shadow Milk must interfere.

“How about this!” Shadow Milk raises his voice only slightly, but his minions are ever so attentive. The moment he speaks, they go silent, turning to face him with only one final poisonous gaze exchanged before he has their sole attention. “Grape, you go ahead and continue shopping in the market for us. Apple and I will stop at the bookshop, get the book we need, and meet back with you here at this bench. You have the list and the bag, and plenty of bartering skill, so it won't take you very long to get what we need.”

Black Sapphire frowns, brow furrowing. “But, Miss Swirl–” He starts, before Shadow Milk cuts him off with a quiet tut.

“I won't be going anywhere, okay? You two are worried for nothing.” Shadow Milk says, attempting to paint a softness with his words he hasn't had in a long time. He stands, and he hides his pained wince with a gentle smile as he places a hand on Black Sapphire's shoulder. “Getting that book won't even take fifteen minutes, dear.”

“We agreed, no splitting up today.” Black Sapphire responds, frowning with carefully restrained frustration, but he ultimately doesn't put up much of a fight. He simply sighs, letting his shoulders sag, before nodding. “Fine. But if you're both not back here in fifteen minutes, I'm finding you and you won't be getting rid of me so easily!” He points a finger into Shadow Milk's face, pouting with a harsh glare.

Shadow Milk's smile softens, only a minute degree. He'd never admit to it being genuine. “I suppose that's typical of you, isn't it?” Always underfoot, these two. “Well, let's get to work, shall we?” Shadow Milk gives Black Sapphire a quick hair ruffle, messing up his perfectly styled hair and making him squawk in offense, and then turns to offer a hand to Candy Apple.

Candy Apple latches on tightly, seemingly no longer so offended by the lack of piggyback rides. She hums cheerfully as they leave Black Sapphire behind, muttering darkly as he fixes his hair, and eventually even starts to skip and swing their hands between them. It feels… awfully normal.

Shadow Milk adjusts his braid, glances at their reflection in the window of a building they walk by. They certainly look normal. That's… ideal. A woman and her ward, on a day trip to the market. Ordinary. No one would know anything different– or, well. One would know anything different. Shadow Milk raises a hand to his chest, to feel where his Soul Jam is hidden under his apron, and it responds to his touch with a gentle fluttering warmth. His other half is nowhere near, yet he somehow feels close under his fingertips.

Candy Apple tugs him out of the window's sight. He blinks away the odd feeling that had overtaken him to refocus on their goal.

Finding the bookshop again was quite easy, considering it was the only bookshop with a picture of Pure Vanilla's face hung in the window with a big red x over it, with the word banned written in all capitalized bold text underneath. Shadow Milk and Candy Apple both share a little snicker over it, before Shadow Milk opens the door and they enter.

The store has not changed much since his last visit, but somehow it feels less cramped. Which is odd, considering how the one change he can see are the absolutely massive stacks of books filling almost every walkway. They're still neat, organized the same way the shelves were, but that doesn't change the fact that it's no way to store a book.

“Be with you in a moment!” A voice rings out from the very back of the shop, presumably in response to the jingle of the bell as the door closes behind them. There's a thud, and then the sound of pages scattering as a few more, softer thuds follow it. “Ow…” Barely audible, but it paints a very clear picture.

“How are we supposed to find our book in this mess?” Candy Apple whines, slumping over with her arms dangling limply. Shadow Milk places a hand on her head, smoothing out her hair with a chiding tut.

“That's what the bookkeep is for. We won't even have to lift a finger.” Hopefully. The crashing sounds from the very back of the store doesn't make Shadow Milk very confident, but there's little other choice. Otherwise they'll have to root through and move entire stacks just to check the shelves themselves. Shadow Milk was absolutely not going to do that. “They'll know exactly where to find the book we need.”

Candy Apple is placated with that, content to just press her head further back into Shadow Milk's palm, expression melting into a good impression of a cat basking in sunlight. It takes only a few seconds more of waiting before the shopkeep stumbles out from between the stacks. They don't look like a Hollyberrian citizen, now that Shadow Milk pays attention, he'd have guessed they'd be Vanillian if he didn't know any better. They adjust their glasses, seemingly either unaware of the dust that covers them or simply uncaring. Either way, they don't inspire confidence.

“Sorry, sorry! I got a rather large donation in, still trying to figure out how to handle it!” They chuckle, wiping their palms on their tunic as they grin nervously. “That Pure Vanilla is a kind soul, but he's a terribly strong draw for business.” They sigh, shaking their head as they place a hand on their cheek.

“Wouldn't you want more people buying from your store?” Candy Apple asks. The bookkeep flinches, as if they'd already forgotten she was there, and they glance back down at her with an awkward grin.

“W-well, yes, but not the quantities an ancient draws in. You notice, there's barely room for all three of us in here as is! Imagine, hundreds of cookies all flocking just in case they get to run into someone so prestigious!” The bookkeep chuckles weakly, before slumping over with a pitiful sigh. “They're not even here for the books...”

Fascinating. Shadow Milk clears his throat, drawing the cookies eyes back to him as he smiles politely. “We need to find a book, but we only have a few minutes to spare. Do you think you'd be able to retrieve it for us?” He runs a hand over his braid, a nervous little flutter to his eyes as he glances at the door. The bookkeep stares for a moment before jerking upright.

“Y-yes, of course, ma'am!” They stammer, face flushing. “Do you know the title? Author? Publishing year?” Shadow Milk lightly presses a hand to his sternum, sighing in practiced relief.

“Yes, yes, thank you.” The bookkeep takes the information gladly and immediately slips between the stacks to disappear. Shadow Milk lets his placid expression fall and feels his lip curl, rolling his eyes. “Better be quick.” He mutters.

“They're weird.” Candy Apple chirps, leaning into Shadow Milk's side once again. He hums absently in response, a quiet agreement. He can't believe this cookie was the one to ban Pure Vanilla from their store. How disappointing. He'd have thought they'd be less dull, for having the gall to do that alone.

They return quite quickly, but notably without a book in hand. Shadow Milk smoothes his expression once more, but lets his brow furrow in confusion. “Did you not find the book?” He asks, tilting his head. The bookkeep winces and nervously grins, rubbing the back of their neck awkwardly.

“Well, no, I didn't. I probably won't be getting any new shipments, either, that book went out of circulation some time ago. I thought I had one last copy for sale, but I can't find it.” They respond, chuckling flatly. Shadow Milk frowns, raising a finger to his chin in thought. It made sense, but how disappointing. They'd have a hard time finding the book in other shops too, it sounds like. “I can recommend something similar–”

“No need.” Shadow Milk smiles pleasantly, offering his hand back for Candy Apple to take once more. “We don't have much time left, anyhow. Right, Apple Seed?”

Candy Apple blinks for a moment before her grin widens. “Right! Pippy is waiting for us!” She says brightly. She latches onto Shadow Milk's arm tightly, giggling in sheer delight.

“Indeed he is.” Shadow Milk nods, eyes closing as he twists his smile into something fond. “So, thank you for your help, but we must be going.”

They make a swift departure, only partially out of necessity. It hasn't been fifteen minutes quite just yet, but none of them are the patient sort. Black Sapphire is almost certainly already waiting for them. Candy Apple busies herself with insulting the bookstore and its keeper with scathing words as they walk, but Shadow Milk isn't paying too much attention to that. No, he's been handed a new puzzle, and he's inclined to solve it.

Where, oh where is he going to find an adequate substitute for his restoration spell? There's a reason he's searching for that particular one, beyond its simplicity. It's practically the base for countless other spells dealing in fixing, and if they could learn the one then it would be simple enough for them to figure out how to apply it in other ways– they certainly were clever enough for it. He could simply give in and find some dismal alternative to it, or even teach them himself, but–

“Halt! Thief!” Shadow Milk whips his head around at the bark of the guard, freezing in place with his heart in his throat. He shouldn't be concerned– no, truly, he isn't concerned– it could be any cookie they shouted at. There could hardly be only one cookie stealing at the markets today. Even if it were Black Sapphire, he shouldn't care. It's just a lesson. Be quicker, don't get seen, lie your way out. They know this. They're well practiced. The guards would find no proof and the lies will be the truth, as far as they need to know.

Candy Apple gasps, seeing the same sight the moment Shadow Milk finally finds where the shout had come from. Her grip tightens and her smile falls, eyes wide in a mirror of Shadow Milk's own expression, as they see Black Sapphire surrounded.

He has an easy expression on his face, hands held up lazily as the guards stomp forward quite threateningly. He's keeping calm, already saying something to try to placate the group, but there's a well-hidden tension in his shoulders. One of the guards lays a hand on the hilt of their sword and he takes a tiny, minute step back.

Shadow Milk stalks forward with only half a mind to what exactly his angle was here. Candy Apple stumbles as he jerks into motion but finds her pace swiftly, looking to his expression for cues. But he's not thinking of cues or scripts, there's no lies that spring to mind as his lips twist into a snarl and his steps quicken.

“–I swear, I was only examining the wares. I didn't take a single thing! You may check my bag, if you must be sure. You won't find anything.” Black Sapphire is saying, but the guards seem too wound to truly listen.

“You match the description given after a string of thefts weeks ago. Even if you took nothing today, and I have already witnessed otherwise, we have enough grounds to arrest you on that alone.” The guard states firmly, grip tightening on his hilt. “If you refuse, we will deem it necessary to use force.”

Black Sapphire takes another step back, but this time it's noticed. The guards bristle, hands flying to take hold of their swords, and Shadow Milk yanks his arm out of Candy Apple's grip.

He pushes between the guards, standing in front of Black Sapphire with his hands on his hips and a vicious smile bared. A few eyes peer from the between the weave of his plait to ensure Black Sapphire is safe behind him, as he turns his angry glare to the group much too eager to draw swords against one cookie. Seriously, three against one, and they feel weapons necessary? How cowardly! How brutish! And here he thought the Hollyberry Kingdom would have standards.

“Would any of you gentlemen be so kind as to explain why you're accosting my child?” He spits, tilting his head as his grin widens. There's a noticeable pause as the guards stare at him in bewilderment, before the apparent leader narrows his eyes and draws himself up. A feeble attempt at intimidation, pathetic really. Shadow Milk may look no stronger than the stem of a vanilla orchid in this form, but he's not going to act as such.

“Ma'am, I think it's best if you don't get involved.” The guard says, dismissively. “This man has been caught stealing from the market stalls. If you try to interfere in his arrest, we will have to take you as well.”

“What proof do you have?” Shadow Milk snaps, unwavering even as the guard takes another step closer. “If you have due cause, then show me!”

“We have descriptions–”

“That could match any cookie! The likelihood you can identify a suspect from word-of-mouth alone is slim to none, sir. Eye witnesses don't tend to remember things such as eye color or a haircut when recounting the scene!” Shadow Milk steps forward, jabbing a finger into the guards chest with a sneer. “Let me guess, you saw a purple cookie in fancy clothes, and that was the only description you had, and you immediately jumped on it with no due cause!”

The other two guards shift uncomfortably, exchanging glances as if Shadow Milk has indeed hit the nail on the head. Of course he has. He is the ex-Fount of Knowledge, the one cookie who knows everything. He knows how the cookie mind works, and the chances they got any description at all was slim to none. The only reason they may have gotten one was because Black Sapphire stands out as a stranger playing at low nobility, and it wasn't because he was seen stealing but simply seen at all.

The leader, however, just glares down at Shadow Milk with open hostility, roughly grabbing his wrist. “Ma'am, I saw him commit the act with my own two eyes. You need to calm down.”

Shadow Milk takes orders from no one. “Grape, turn out your bag.” He snaps, meeting the guard glare for glare. Black Sapphire, who until now was frozen with his arm half outstretched and eyes blown wide, immediately jerks into motion. He hurriedly tears the bag off his shoulder and turns it inside out, tossing it on the ground for good measure. Shadow Milk gestures with his free hand. “Oh, look at that! Not a single item, is there?” He smiles, sharp and scathing. “Whatever you think you saw, you clearly didn't. So, are you done?”

The grip around his wrist is tight enough to bruise, the glare he receives only growing more heated. While the other two guards are convinced– it's clear in their awkward frames, in the way they mutter trying to convince their lead to back out– this one is stubborn to a different degree. “Are you calling me a liar?” He asks, dangerously low.

“If you want to put it that way, I would not fight you.” Shadow Milk responds, shrugging easily. “But I was more thinking that you were just stupid–”

Shadow Milk is an intelligent cookie, but he's prone to impulsive acts. He often faces the consequences of them with a grin and a laugh, or on worse days with a fury unmatched by any cookie, living or dead. Today is somewhere in the middle. Thankfully, it’s a result he’d half been counting on.

The blow is quick and unexpected– the moment the words tumble out of his mouth is only fractions of a second before he's on the ground, holding his stinging cheek with a pained gasp. It takes a brief second for his mind to truly register what just happened, but less for him to start moving again. He pushes himself up with one arm, frame trembling, eyes tearing up from the pain.

He's not normally so weak, his pain tolerance is not too terrible considering how much he simply ignores on the daily, but a full strength palm to the face from a cookie nearly twice your size is easily unpleasant on the best of days. This is certainly not one of his best days.

“Miss Yogurt Swirl!” Black Sapphire immediately kneels down to help him, concern and guilt coating his words. Shadow Milk allows him to help, at least in getting him to sit upright. There's a clamor from the guards, a delightful little tussle because the two uncertain dullards were now quite cross with their lead for slapping an “innocent woman”. The sight is pleasant, but Shadow Milk takes care not to let it show.

“Now what in the world is going on here?!” Shadow Milk lazily turns his head, lips quivering as he fights the smile trying to take shape. It's just so funny. How easy it is, to goad someone into an attack. How simple, to ruin their reputation with just a few words. Teaches them, doesn't it? They should have never messed with Shadow Milk's dearest possessions.

Hollyberry marches up with an aura of authority hard to miss, and the guards stop their squabbling to stand at attention. She may not be Queen, but she is an authority far beyond them, and they know it well. Candy Apple stands, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt in her fists as she glares daggers at the guard who struck Shadow Milk. It's clear she wants to retaliate, but she's smarter than that. Instead she hurries over to kneel by Shadow Milk as well, on his other side, hugging him tightly. Or, really, shielding him is a better word. She should know that's very unnecessary.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I saw her walking in the other direction and I thought she'd be easy to trick into helping.”

Shadow Milk smiles, taking his hand off his stinging cheek to place it on her head, squeezing her close before pressing an affectionate kiss to her hair. “You did excellent, dear.” He barely listened to the scolding Hollyberry was giving the trio of guards, turning to Black Sapphire and looking over him with an appraising gaze, sighing in relief when it looked like they hadn't managed to touch him at all before his intervention.

“I should have been more careful. I didn't think I'd been seen last time…” Black Sapphire mutters bitterly. Shadow Milk wraps his other arm around Black Sapphire's shoulder, squeezing both of his minions tightly with eyes shut and an irritated frown. To any onlookers, it's just a family reassuring each other after a stressful encounter. In reality, Shadow Milk is still mad as hell, and needs a bit of an outlet.

“You weren't, otherwise they would have bothered you sooner.” Shadow Milk responds, voice just as quiet. “I'll explain it more in depth later, but for now just note that we're not going to use these disguises again anytime soon.” Shadow Milk opens one eye to glance at Black Sapphire, at his dejected expression. That simply won't do. “Hey, Sapphy, you're great at what you do. Bad luck hits all of us eventually! And that's all this was. Bad luck.”

It doesn't reassure him as much as Shadow Milk had hoped it would, but ultimately he'll only understand once Shadow Milk explains why his description woulda cropped up regardless. They don't have time for that now, though, as Hollyberry approaches their little huddle.

Her arms are crossed as she glares back at the guards, who've very clearly been successfully chewed out, but when she looks down at Shadow Milk and his minions her expression softens into something worried and apologetic. “You alright, Swirl? That looked like quite the hit.” She offers a hand down to help them up, gaze lingering on the unquestionably bruising mark on Shadow Milk's face.

Shadow Milk, meanwhile, contemplates the offered help. It's sensible for him to accept, really, Yogurt Swirl Cookie has no reason not to. She, also, has her wards at her side and ready to help her up anyways. Plus, she knows that Hollyberry has a firm grip and a lot of arm strength. If there's anything bad for his already extremely sore body, it would be being helped up by Hollyberry Cookie.

But, also, how ruinous for the guard. Not only did he assault an innocent woman, but one Hollyberry herself was familiar with? Shadow Milk smiles easily, plastering on something flustered and meek, letting go of Black Sapphire to take Hollyberry's hand. Candy Apple certainly wasn't going to let him do such a thing, after all. “Ah, I'm fine! Now, anyways.”

Shadow Milk chuckles awkwardly as Hollyberry pulls him to his feet, Candy Apple only letting go briefly to allow him to get his bearings before latching onto his side once more. Hollyberry offers a hand to Black Sapphire as well, but he declines to take it, standing on his own and shuffling closer to Shadow Milk with a wary glare directed at the ancient.

“I'm so sorry for the scene,” Shadow Milk says. The onlookers, of which there are many, suddenly seem to busy themselves with anything other than staring. They're listening, though. They always do. This would be news like wildfire, if Shadow Milk has anything to say about it. “I just saw them start to reach for their swords, and I just–” he pauses, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, knuckles curled loosely as his eyes start to droop. “I didn't think.”

“No, no, I understand!” Hollyberry reassures, grinning brightly as she sets a heavy hand on Shadow Milk's shoulder. Black Sapphire and Candy Apple quietly bristle, but Shadow Milk doesn't let his own annoyance show. “We all can get some kind of way when people we love are in trouble, heck, I'm kinda known for jumping into danger for my loved ones!” Hollyberry laughs, loud and boisterous, winking obnoxiously.

“You certainly are,” Shadow Milk responds awkwardly, smile straining at the edges. Hollyberry removes her hand, thankfully, and places her fists on her hips.

“So, these are your kids, huh?” Hollyberry looks over Black Sapphire and then Candy Apple in turn, nodding to herself as she hums in thought. “Well, I know I'm probably intruding on your outing, but I feel downright terrible your day has ended up like this! So, how about I treat you all to a nice dinner? With a side of apologies,” She glares at the guards, who let their heads sink in shame. “And some ice for your face!”

Shadow Milk tilts his head, contemplating the offer. On the one hand, the last thing he wants is another ancient thinking they can be buddy-buddy. On the other, that guard's day would only get worse. At this rate they might as well call in the world's favorite darling Pure Vanilla Cookie and have him make a fuss over Yogurt Swirl, really rub it in that Shadow Milk was the wrong cookie to mess with.

Oh. And maybe he'd get to hear what Eternal Sugar was up to, if Hollyberry was the talkative sort. Wouldn't that be quaint?

“I would hate to impose,” Shadow Milk raises a hand to his heart, turning his gaze to the ground with a light flush to his face. “But ice would be nice?” He adds meekly. Black Sapphire gives him an odd stare, but with a small shake of his head goes to retrieve his bag from the ground anyways.

With him absent from Shadow Milk's side, Hollyberry swiftly and gleefully takes his place. Another boisterous laugh and an arm suddenly draped over Shadow Milk's shoulder makes him flinch, but there's no time to protest. She's already dragging him along, eagerly describing the meal that awaits them. He feels, dimly, that he has made a grave mistake, but it’s far too late for that.

Chapter Text

With a solid chunk of ice slowly melting as he presses it against his sore cheek and a full glass of wine in his other hand, you'd think Shadow Milk would be at least a smidgen more comfortable. But, alas. Not to be.

Black Sapphire sits to his right, swirling his own glass and staring into the rich color with a subtle look of disgust. He hasn't even tried it yet, but Shadow Milk can not blame him for not wanting to. Shadow Milk knows by look and smell alone that this was a wine destined to be too bitter for his taste, and Black Sapphire would likely be turned away by the percentage. Alcohol is an acquired taste, one which only one of the residents of the spire possessed. Shadow Milk was much more accustomed to the art of social drinking, as well as the prissy pretentious talent of wine tasting, and Black Sapphire has never even touched a bottle as far as he’s aware.

To his left, Candy Apple morosely sips at a glass of grape juice, face stuck in a pout as she slumps against his side, occasionally glancing at Shadow Milk's barely-attended drink with curious eyes. Every time she happens to, Shadow Milk carefully brings his glass up to sip, a reminder that though he looks to be paying her no mind, he does know when she is trying to scheme. He couldn't care less about the ethics of it, but the idea of giving Candy Apple any alcoholic beverage when she could barely handle plain juice without bouncing off the walls? Unappealing, in short.

Across from the three of them, Hollyberry gestures wildly with her fourth pint of an unknown berry-juice mead, drinking with a careless air and tolerance that Shadow Milk hasn't known any cookies to have since Caster Sugar and Masala Spice. She's enjoying her meal a lot more than the cookies of deceit– she's the only one truly comfortable in the overcrowded, loud, smelly inn she's dragged them along to. Cookies of all shapes and sizes clap her on the shoulder as they pass by, some shouting greetings with slurred words and others just sober enough to recognize that she brought guests along and keep their acknowledgements more subdued.

“Like the place?” Hollyberry asks, partially loud because that happens to be her default, and partially because the crowds necessitate it. Shadow Milk smiles politely, if strained, but if Hollyberry notices the subtle cues he's trying to give she doesn't acknowledge them. “They've got the best food in town, I swear, and the company isn't too bad either!” Of course she thinks so. She’s the one who dragged them across the entire city to bring them here.

Taking guests to an inn to eat wouldn't be an odd thing, if she didn't live here. Having opinions on inns and how quality they are isn't odd either, except, again, she lives here. And, she's saying it's the best place in the kingdom to eat period, not just in terms of inns. It’s so far from the castle too, remarkably out of her way. By all means, she could have picked anywhere else and it would have made more sense. Like, an actual restaurant, maybe. But noooo. She had to take them to an inn. Her oddities just keep adding up.

“The food is taking a while,” Black Sapphire mutters. He glances at Shadow Milk with a brow raised, a silent question on what exactly the script is here. Once again, Shadow Milk has on impulse dragged them all into a problem more trouble than it's worth, and they all knew it. Even if Shadow Milk was steadfast in ignoring it.

“That's how you know it's quality!” Hollyberry, somehow, heard him. “They take their time with every meal, ensuring it's hot and fresh every time! Every plate is made to fill you up and give you enough energy to climb mountains!”

“Well, we're not climbing mountains.” Candy Apple huffs, before Shadow Milk nudges her with his elbow and gives her a warning glance. She sits up immediately and smiles falsely sweet, eyes sparkling with excitement. “But that sounds soooooo good! I bet it's really yummy, huh?!”

“You bet it is!” Hollyberry can't be that oblivious, can she? Shadow Milk glances away as he takes another sip of his wine, fighting the urge to just toss the glass at her and leave in the ensuing chaos. On the one hand, her attitude was annoying and grated on him personally. On the other hand, it was very… familiar. That was probably why it was so grating.

Hollyberry takes another large drink from her pint, grinning brightly as she sets it down with a touch more force than is necessary. “So!” She starts, drawing Shadow Milk's attention back. “I'm curious about you all! I've never seen you around before, but this makes it twice now that I've caught you at the markets! So, did you all move in recently?”

Shadow Milk smiles a bit more easily at the question, one he was very prepared for. “Well, we don't live in the kingdom itself. Our home is a few days' travel, so we make the most of our trips when we have to make them.” He sets his glass down on the table, fingers lightly tapping on the stem as he keeps a few careful eyes on Candy Apple. “Most years our garden is enough, but we've had a bit of a pest problem this year.”

“Ah, terrible.” Hollyberry responds with a sigh and a solemn shake of her head. “And I suppose with the mess of today you haven't been able to get what you need?” Shadow Milk sets aside the half- melted chunk of ice to place a hand on Candy Apple's head, quieting her before she can answer. She's not a bad liar by any means, but she'll miss the smallest of details if she doesn’t take the time to think about her words. Like, for example, the fact they don't have any bags, and the one they do have is supposedly empty. She’s excellent at quick thinking, but she is rather distracted at the moment. None of them exactly want to be there.

“No, we haven't.” Shadow Milk responds with a sad sigh, a slight tilt of his head. “But it will work out fine. We should have enough at home to last another while. I try to be on top of things, just in case something goes wrong.”

“You aren't going to stay?” Hollyberry asks, surprise clear in her tone. “I would guess that if travel took so long, you’d take at least a night before heading home again.”

“We have to be frugal.” Shadow Milk responds sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“I don't like sleeping in other people's beds!” Candy Apple chimes in, huffily crossing her arms as Shadow Milk lets out a fond chuckle, covering his mouth with his hand. Black Sapphire rolls his eyes, finally taking a tiny sip of his wine. He doesn't look like he knows how to feel about it, but he sets down the glass after a moment of thought. “It's gross, and they're never soft enough!”

“You've never slept in any bed but your own, Apple.” Black Sapphire says dully, earning a glare from Candy Apple. “You can't say anything about their quality.”

“I can too!” Candy Apple bickers, starting the inevitable little tiff with Black Sapphire that's been brewing the whole walk here. Black Sapphire in particular has been testy today, but Candy Apple definitely has been on edge since Hollyberry’s arrival. It’s no surprise they take the opportunity to devolve into petty squabbles, even if the source of their irritation wasn’t quite each other this time.

Shadow Milk glances at Hollyberry to see her reaction, like any embarrassed caretaker hoping not to be judged for the shortcomings of their wards. Their eyes meet and Hollyberry gives him an amused smile, shrugging as if to silently say kids, huh? To which Shadow Milk responds with an amused smile of his own and an exaggerated eye roll. Hollyberry snorts, a quiet and subdued thing Shadow Milk thought she'd be incapable of.

“It wouldn't do for you to head home empty handed, though.” Hollyberry leans over the table slightly, to be heard over his minions’ argument. “I get you're worried about the price, but I wouldn't mind paying for you, just for tonight. Least I could do for a friend.”

“You're much too kind,” Shadow Milk responds, genuinely surprised. “We've only just barely met, too. How could you offer that so blithely?”

“PV's your friend, right?” Hollyberry asks. “At least, he's trying to be.”

Shadow Milk has to hold back his grimace at that. He's very fortunate his minions were too busy bickering about some nonsense he could care less about– not even about staying at an inn anymore, just how did they fall off that track– to be paying him any mind. Pure Vanilla was a testy topic, what with recent happenings. Just one day ago he could have confidently lied through answering that question, said yes without a second thought. Now, it's the truth. Which is vastly harder to grapple with.

“He's… certainly something like that.” Shadow Milk mutters. Once again, Hollyberry hears him just fine over the din.

Hollyberry grins, sitting back in her seat again and raising her glass. “That's good enough for me! ‘Sides, he asked me to look out for you if our paths happened to cross. If you can't accept on your own account, then consider it for him?”

As Hollyberry takes another long drink, Shadow Milk can't help but watch her with a furrowed brow. He can not think of a time he'd ever considered helping someone just because of a loose connection to someone he knows. It sings discordant in his mind, a thought hard to fully grasp. Even if he reframes it to purely friendship, he still has no idea how she could speak like that was an entirely normal course of action. Is this something Pure Vanilla inspires in others, or are all the ancients that magnanimous?

“... Just a single night.” Shadow Milk acquiesces, looking down into his glass, swirling it gently. It almost feels… he shakes off the thought. “Thank you.” His voice is small, quiet. It's such a hassle. He could just be back in the morning, even if they left for the spire. He can't believe he has to keep up this act for another day.

The food arrives not long after. True to her word, it's delicious. Warm and fresh, well balanced too. Candy Apple initially refuses to try it, but a small bit of mocking from Black Sapphire and a quiet order from Shadow Milk drives her to clearing her plate. With the comment that Shadow Milk's cooking is much better thrown out before it could be mistaken that she thought it was that good. It's not a familiar recipe, but it would be simple enough to replicate. Shadow Milk could improve it.

Conversation with Hollyberry flows smoothly, surprisingly. She's, quite obviously and not one bit surprisingly, a passionate cookie. There's moments where Shadow Milk feels entirely too comfortable laughing along to a silly story she shares, where the thin facade of friendliness he wears to handle the situation gets a little too real. She gets along well with Black Sapphire and Candy Apple once their wariness is breached, but that's less of a surprise than it really should be. It may simply be the atmosphere. Perhaps that's why she brought them to an inn, of all places.

Hollyberry clears her plate first, marches over to the bar to pester the innkeeper about getting a room. Candy Apple and Black Sapphire don't seem to notice until Hollyberry returns with a room key, too busy with desserts that arrived swiftly after Candy Apple let slip a comment about her sweet tooth, triumphantly holding it out to them and waiting for Shadow Milk to take it before sliding back into her seat. They both look to Shadow Milk for a cue, as always. Black Sapphire in particular doesn’t look too pleased. Shadow Milk isn’t particularly pleased either, but he’s at least doing a better job hiding it.

He passes the key along to Black Sapphire. “Could you check the room?” He asks with a low voice, to which Black Sapphire quickly nods and leaves. He’s both the better choice for the task and the only choice. Candy Apple is still firmly set on not leaving Shadow Milk's side, especially when in the presence of an ancient, and Shadow Milk doesn't feel much like fighting her. It's for the better, anyhow.

“You certainly are not the cookie I imagined you were,” Hollyberry leads. Candy Apple's eyes droop, with such a heavy meal and an eventful day it's no surprise, but she manages to stay awake long enough to give Hollyberry an insulted glare on Shadow Milk's behalf. “Mind sharing your story? We're in the place for it!”

“I'm not really all that interesting.” Shadow Milk smiles, a tinge amused. A lie like that can't help but be a little funny, after all. “I will say again, I'm only a maid. To some extent, a caretaker for my wards, but that's circumstantial. There's nothing more to tell.”

“Aw, come now, that can't be all you have.” Shadow Milk shrugs, palms upturned and eyes closed as he shakes his head. It could have been predicted that it wouldn’t do much to quell her curiosity. “Where are you all from? How did you decide to move to the edges of Hollyberry Kingdom? How did you meet Pure Vanilla?” Ah. Her intent is to interrogate him now.

“A lot of questions, Miss Hollyberry.” Candy Apple's breathing starts to slow, and she starts gripping tighter onto Shadow Milk's arm. He smiles, though it's perhaps not because it gives him an escape once again. It is convenient, though. “That, unfortunately, I don't have time for. As you can see, my dear Apple Seed is quite tired.”

Hollyberry chuckles, directing a warm look at Candy Apple's sleeping face. “I suppose that's fair. A shame we couldn't talk more, I wanted to get to know you better! I guess I’ll just have to catch you again later, huh?”

“I suppose.” Yogurt Swirl Cookie is being retired, effective immediately. “It was fun while it lasted!” Shadow Milk, surprisingly, means it. There's facets of Hollyberry he still finds impossibly grating, but there's… a sense of familiarity to her. Eternal Sugar was going to have a fun time with her. Whenever she shows herself, if she shows herself.

He wasn’t exactly expecting Hollyberry to speak about the Beasts with a stranger who by all accounts is as civilian as it gets, but he’d thought there may be hints. Though he could perhaps guess that there’s nothing to hint around. Eternal Sugar didn’t tend to leave her garden for anything in the past. Even with their collective plans to take back their Soul Jams, perhaps she’s still falling into that old habit. And here he’d thought she’d maybe surprise him for once. So for now, he’ll dismiss his theorycrafting for something more worthwhile– getting out of Hollyberry’s interrogation attempts.

“Cmon, little pest, let's get to bed.” Shadow Milk nudges Candy Apple, which only manages to get her to curl tighter around the hold she has on his arm with a complaining whine. It takes a bit of effort, and a swiftly declined offer of assistance from Hollyberry, but Shadow Milk eventually manages to stand with Candy Apple awkwardly cradled in his arms. It's difficult to carry a gangly teen girl (even one as slight as Candy Apple happened to be) when she's attempting to strangle circulation in your arm, but he manages.

It’s not a pleasant experience, nonetheless. It’s hard to maneuver through the crowded space, even with thoughtful patrons removing themselves and the drunkards from his path, and his aches and pains are not helped by the added weight. Thankfully, Black Sapphire meets him at the bottom of the stairs, and like a good little minion immediately offers to take Candy Apple up instead. He's truly got a great deal of experience with her sleepy clinginess, it seems, because he makes quick work removing her steel grip from Shadow Milk.

On the way, Black Sapphire informs Shadow Milk the conditions of the room– decent quality sheets, no sign of pests, but only one bed. It's fine enough, given Shadow Milk doesn't need sleep and wasn't going to attempt it with his minions around. One of them should keep awake for caution's sake, anyhow. Black Sapphire and Candy Apple have shared a bed before, and certainly can do it again.

The room itself, once they enter, is dull. Sure, it's colorful! A rich kingdom with famously grand harvest yields happens to produce quite a lot of dyes, and that means even the common folk have access to plenty of vibrant colors for cheap, so it'd be more odd if the curtains weren't a rich berry pink. But dull is not just simply a state brought by lack of color, but a lack of interest.

There is no decor, save for a rug fraying at its edges, and no amenities save for the bed and a window that promises to open only two inches. Certainly not a place Shadow Milk would have found himself in any other circumstance. He floats up to the ceiling once the door is closed, shedding the face of Yogurt Swirl Cookie as he goes, just to keep out of Black Sapphire's way.

Black Sapphire deposits Candy Apple on the bed none-too-gently, dropping her like a flour sack. She reacts much like one, as in it doesn't seem to bother her any– she's a heavy sleeper, or she's used to this sort of treatment. Perhaps both. Despite his lack of care in putting her to bed, Black Sapphire quickly remedies his callous appearance by immediately pulling the sheets over her, up to her chin, and ruffling her hair to dispel the illusion.

Shadow Milk finds it curious how caring they can be towards each other. He watches Black Sapphire go through seemingly familiar motions, tucking Candy Apple into bed like it's second nature, with the knowledge that just twenty minutes earlier he was threatening to suffocate her with a pillow. He may know that this isn't strange behavior, in fact it's remarkably common that this is how siblings simply are, but knowing is different from understanding.

Black Sapphire reaches for something, a mindless action, but his hand lands on open air. It takes a moment of him fumbling, yawning with droopy eyes, before Shadow Milk realizes what Black Sapphire is searching for. A wave of Shadow Milk's hand and a plush cake wolf appears, in fluffy sheep costume, right under Black Sapphire's searching palm. Black Sapphire startles, looks down at the plush and then to Shadow Milk with a strange expression, before he tucks the plush into Candy Apple's waiting arms. Immediately, she curls up against it, face nuzzling into the falsely woolly torso, and Black Sapphire stands up with his job complete.

He sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eye and glancing up at Shadow Milk. It's clear he's tired, but it's also very clear that despite that he still wants answers. Even before he speaks, Shadow Milk can guess that much. “You wouldn't have gone along with this before,” he says.

Before is such a vague term, there's a lot of befores in Shadow Milk's life. Before the tree, before the spire, before the fall. Plenty of more recent examples, too. Still, he's not stupid.

“You don't need to think about it,” Shadow Milk responds dismissively. “In fact, you don't need to think about anything right now. Not to tread on Eternal Sugar's tail here, but it's better if you just sleep.”

“We–” Black Sapphire pauses, considering his words carefully. His expression gives away too much, like this. He's really well and truly tired. One night of sleep after cramming won't fix all the exhaustion, after all, and they had an eventful day on top of that. Perhaps Shadow Milk should have waited an extra day before trying to run this errand, even if they would have been incessant about their questions. What’s done is done, he can’t change it, but he could keep it in mind for the future. “Do you not trust us to help you?” He asks, finally, voice quiet but piercing.

It’s a confusing question, because Black Sapphire already knows the answer. Shadow Milk tilts his head. “I do not need to trust you. You're my minions, you do as I say when I say it.” He says. He blinks, eyes wide with shock, when Black Sapphire's face falls, when his head hangs and Shadow Milk can no longer see his expression anymore. Shadow Milk starts to drift closer, but stalls when Black Sapphire shakes his head.

“You… we thought…” Black Sapphire sighs, lifting his head to meet Shadow Milk's eyes again. “It was like you left us, again. It scared us. We– we finally had you back, and–” Black Sapphire's fists clench, and he grits his teeth. Shadow Milk can recognize the emotions clearly. “And Pure Vanilla nearly tears you away again!” He seethes.

There isn't any way for them to know of the extent of Pure Vanilla's involvement, in both his isolation and his return to them. He doesn't even want them to know, hence why he's been focusing on keeping them from asking instead of finding a prettier lie to tell. But they're not stupid; they're his minions, he has standards. Of course they had to have an inkling of the root cause, it's not hard to guess a snake in Pure Vanilla's garden has something to do with Shadow Milk, and it's not hard to guess that Pure Vanilla can send Shadow Milk into a spiral if things don't go his way.

“You–” Black Sapphire spits, seemingly unable to keep the rage tucked away in its little niche, unable to hide it now that he's tapped the glass. He's kept it contained all day, or at least released it through pettier diversions, but he's always been testy. Hot-tempered, as all cookies in the spire were. “You care about that cookie, more than you've ever cared about us, and that's– that's–” Black Sapphire doesn't raise his voice, careful to keep it low in mind of his sleeping sister, but he doesn't need to be loud to be clear. He hits the bed with his fist, gritting his teeth. “Unfair! We have waited for you for centuries, and we have been loyal to you and only you, but that– that thief comes along, and suddenly you– you–”

Shadow Milk sinks to the floor, watching as suddenly all the heat and bluster seeps out of Black Sapphire with a single sigh. By all means, his words should have sent Shadow Milk into a fury himself. The accusations, the implicit demand, all of it should be insulting at the least. Even a few days ago, Shadow Milk would have crumbled him for merely daring to direct his ire his way. Or maybe that was a lie.

“What about him is so special?” Black Sapphire asks, tired and dejected. The question hangs in the air between them for a moment, heavy and foreboding. Why in the world does Pure Vanilla have such a strong hold over their Master, why does his words and actions carry so much more weight? Why do they have to work so hard for their Master’s attention and praise, when Truthless Recluse had it all with no effort and didn’t even want it? Why did their Master come back to them, and immediately forget about them? None of these questions were directly asked, but they wrap themselves together into the one that was, and Shadow Milk is left wondering for himself how he could even begin to answer.

He can’t, is the thing. There’s another hidden question he can answer, though. It probably matters more.

“Don't ask me,” Shadow Milk floats to the bed, sitting beside Black Sapphire with a careless shrug. “Seriously, don't. There are things I still have to… think about myself.” Shadow Milk drew his legs up, crossing them under himself and rocking just enough to nudge Black Sapphire's shoulder. “But I'm not going to leave you guys. Not for him, not for any cookie. Not if I can help it.”

“Can you be certain?” Black Sapphire asks. Shadow Milk has hit the nail on the head, pried out his true worries, and now it’s even more clear just how desperate Black Sapphire is for the answer. “You've changed. You're kinder, you spend more time with us, you have us reading books, you've taught us spells, and you hate teaching. You started dreaming of him, and now you're spending time with his friends as if they aren't our enemies.”

“Now, to be fair, the thing with Hollyberry is just a ruse so that one guard will rethink his life choices. Nothing more ruinous to your reputation than insulting an authority’s friend.” Shadow Milk clarifies, narrowing his eyes as he points a finger in Black Sapphire's face. “Everything else… notice something about all those things?” Black Sapphire's brow furrows as Shadow Milk grins, booping his nose. “That's all for you guys. Not Pure Vanilla Cookie, you. I make breakfast for you, I spend time with you, I care about you.” Shadow Milk falls forward, tumbling off the bed and into the air and flipping around until he faces Black Sapphire again, hands on his hips. “Why would I do all that if I intended on ditching you at the next opportunity? I mean, talk about a waste of effort!”

Black Sapphire stares, silently appraising. It's an awkward moment; Shadow Milk, attempting comfort, Black Sapphire, trying to read between the words. They're both not used to the truth, nor used to being direct about these things. It was always lies, games, and distractions until the underlying issues resolved themselves. Truth was never offered, answers never straightforward. But this… this requires a tactful hand, to manage. His minions could not be made useless by the mere feeling of abandonment and the fires of jealousy. He knows the damage those feelings could do if left unchecked.

“Do you think I would have let that idiot guard slap me if I didn't care?” Shadow Milk prods, which seems to get him somewhere. Black Sapphire looks away, rubbing at his eyes with a stifled yawn, finding an answer for himself. Whatever that conclusion was, he doesn't share so directly. But given the small, weak smile he offers before he climbs into bed, it's likely the right one.

Shadow Milk watches as he tucks himself under the covers, Candy Apple rolling over so she could wrap one arm over him in addition to her vice-grip on her plushie, and smiles when Black Sapphire’s breathing evens out in record time. It’s certainly fair of him; emotions are exhausting. Hopefully, it’ll be restful enough. They’ll have another day of performance ahead of them, so he’ll certainly need as much of it as he can get.

“Dream sweet lies, Sapphy.” Shadow Milk coos softly, rising back up to the ceiling and settling himself among the shadows of a dark corner. The door is locked and the window closed, but locks can be picked and windows broken. He keeps his eyes trained carefully on both. Just in case.

Nothing will take them from him, either.

Chapter Text

One room for three cookies is a very small space, if you couldn't guess.

It's no problem for Shadow Milk, really, he didn't need to sleep, and so he wasn't dealing with the problem of sharing a bed with Candy Apple. He, also, was having a very good time just watching from the shadows in the ceiling corner. A space slowly shrinking as daylight starts to streak through the windows and light the room, but still present nonetheless. None of the fuss and problems his dear minions face once the first sunbeam casts across their closed eyes involve him, so he just gets a fun show.

Candy Apple wakes first. She always does, because apart from being a heavy sleeper she also happens to be an early riser, and always with much too much energy so early in the day. A problem for Black Sapphire, who is a light sleeper and very much the sort that if he had less responsibilities and things to do, he would sleep until noon. Whether that was because he also always happened to go to bed late, or simply because his light dozing isn't the most restful sleep, is an unknown that hardly matters. What it means, in this circumstance, is that the morning starts as such:

Candy Apple wakes up. Candy Apple slowly releases her hold on her plushie, and then releases her hold on her brother much quicker, before sitting upright and hopping out of bed. Her sudden and loud movements are enough to startle Black Sapphire awake, who jerks upright with his hand reaching out for his microphone’s staff. The movement is aborted halfway as he blearily blinks into awareness, taking in their surroundings and slowly processing the sudden shove into consciousness. All the while, Candy Apple is blissfully unaware and humming carelessly as she attempts to smooth the wrinkles out of her dress and reapply her illusions.

Unhappy to be woken up in such an abrupt manner, Black Sapphire says some scathing words. Candy Apple scrunches her nose up and turns to face him when she responds, equally catty. Black Sapphire tosses out an insult, to which he receives barbs in response. Et cetera, et cetera. Amusing, to a small extent. Definitely more entertaining than watching the window all night.

When the light is risen enough to destroy the shadows he'd been hiding in in their entirety, Shadow Milk descends to intervene. And not a moment too soon, either, as immediately after Shadow Milk got them to quiet down and focus on smoothing themselves over for another day out, there's a knock on the door.

Miss Yogurt Swirl, with braid tied slightly messier thanks to his haste, answers the door with an awkward smile. He half expects it to be a noise complaint, but he's instead pleasantly surprised to only be reminded that the inn has a breakfast service available, included in the cost of the room. There's no point in having his minions miss a meal just because he can't be the one to cook it, so that's where their day truly starts.

And, where the problem reveals itself.

He certainly didn't expect Hollyberry's charity when she offered to pay for a room in the first place, but if he were to expect it, then he would have expected that to be the end of her sudden, inexplicable interest in Yogurt Swirl. After all, she was only looking out for a friend of a friend, on request from dear Pure Vanilla. She intervened when Yogurt Swirl got into a conflict clearly going south fast, and then set them up with a place to stay when she learned they had none. That would be plenty for any reasonable person, after all, everything about this was unnecessary and puts her out of her way to an extent that is more trouble than any reward she could gain is worth. And specifically, in this situation, there is no reward to be gained.

So to step off the stairs and into the dining room, and immediately see that among the few figures already up (as the sun has only just risen and not many who had partaken in as rowdy a scene as the previous night would be awake) Hollyberry herself was there?

Well. Needless to say, his surprised expression wasn't faked in the least.

“Swirl, come join us!” Hollyberry says, voice carrying easily through the quiet, sedate room. She doesn't need to raise her voice any, but she's still easily the loudest present, and her volume manages to make him wince slightly. The cookie standing beside her chair, a stern and stoic looking man, doesn't react much besides looking up to see the cookies she happened to be waving at. Otherwise, he stays as steadfast as any boring dull fool who took their job way too seriously. “You and your kids rested well, I hope?”

There's not much other choice, picking any other table would most certainly be too rude for Miss Yogurt Swirl to do convincingly, and of course there's the whole matter of social station and that mess of situational dynamics to keep in mind even if Shadow Milk could personally care less about them. He may be above them, but Yogurt Swirl was absolutely not.

“Certainly,” Shadow Milk responds with a polite smile once they reach the table, pulling out a chair for Candy Apple and then giving Black Sapphire the remaining chair as he takes another from a table nearby. “I didn't expect to see you here! I had thought you'd have other things to do, rather.”

“Not anything that I can't do later, that's for sure!” Hollyberry chuckles amicably. “I thought I'd join you today, keep an eye out just in case you all get into trouble again. Keeping promises and all!”

“Oh, you don't have to trouble yourself with us.” And Shadow Milk would rather she didn't. “You have already done plenty, more than enough, rather.”

“Now, now, it's really no trouble at all!” Hollyberry reassures. “In fact, it's definitely more fun than what I already had planned.” They are brought their plates, much quicker than the dinner rush had been, and Shadow Milk is forced to set aside his arguments in favor of eating. After all, he has an act to upkeep.

And so, despite every reasonable rational argument otherwise, Hollyberry and company join them for the day. Once breakfast is done, they head out. The streets are empty, birds twittering and chirping in the early morning sun, a golden hue washing the scene. Pure Vanilla certainly would get a kick out of the serenity of it all, it’s almost exactly the kind of thing he’d dream up. Present company hardly seems to notice it.

Hollyberry had introduced Wildberry Cookie to them with enthusiasm, but it's more than clear he's not here to “join the fun” as Hollyberry had declared. He's her personal guard, even if Shadow Milk hadn't known that already it was made perfectly clear by his behavior (eyes scanning their surroundings in a practiced search pattern, shoulders squared, fists clenched tightly) and attitude. What Hollyberry needs a guard for is beyond him, but he's not a welcoming presence regardless. Though, he has his uses. Candy Apple finds him quite entertaining, yammering on some nonsensical tales he politely listens to and engages in only barely, and that keeps her occupied enough she doesn't try hanging off of Shadow Milk's arm again.

He's really, really paying for pushing his limits the past few days. Physically tired, whole-body pained, with a headache threatening itself to arrive behind his eyes– the full package! And yet still, he walks on. No choice, he's an actor on a stage made of cobblestone pavement, and he's not one to call the curtain when the story isn't near done. He'll definitely take a day of rest when they return home, or maybe not a day but at least a full night. No putting it off!

He's excellent at hiding this sort of thing, well-practiced and all, but it does sour his mood. He's a little on edge, so near the enemy and in such poor condition, and he can't find the energy to play as kind and as charitable as Yogurt Swirl as a character is defined to be. Hollyberry cracks a joke about him waking up on the wrong side of the bed, but she's surprisingly considerate. In that she doesn't try dragging him around by the shoulders or forcing him to respond to her chatter, he means, she's still just as loud and exuberant and annoying as ever.

Honestly, he just wants to go home at this point. Forget about groceries, they've gotten enough already, forget about acts and images to upkeep, what point is there when the characters are to be retired anyhow? But that feels too much like losing, too much like a retreat not to scald on his sensibilities. So, despite it all, the annoyance and pain and exhaustion, he pushes through.

The market, this early in the morning, is in a far more tolerable state. Some cookies are still setting up their stands for the day, but some are ready and willing to barter. He doesn't feel much like talking to the rabble, so Black Sapphire takes over the pleasantries for him while he sits back and waits with Hollyberry and company. The only time he needs to do a thing is when Saph reaches into his satchel for coins that don't exist, in which case Shadow Milk handles that with a quick illusion.

“Grape Pip sure has a way with words, huh?” Hollyberry chuckles after another deal goes smoothly, with Black Sapphire getting a very kind discount and the stall owner not noticing the winking snakes on the tails side of the coins she's handed. They all move along to the next barely-open stall, trailing after Black Sapphire, pace sedate and lazy. Only allowable due to the lack of populace at the moment, something slowly and steadily changing, but the sun still needs to be quite a bit higher before the crowds really come out. “He'd make a good merchant, like that.”

“That would be beneath him, “ Shadow Milk mutters. He doesn't, fully, mean to. There's the line he should say, “oh, he has better prospects elsewhere,” which would allude to their rehearsed character backstories without being too specific or blunt, and it is in part what he'd been aiming for. After all, Black Sapphire does have better prospects than being a merchant of all things, it is beneath him, all of that is true. The lie is in the how's and why's, which is what better prospects gently prods Hollyberry into asking for. Technically speaking, saying it would be beneath him isn't wrong, but it isn't how Yogurt Swirl would have said it.

“Oh, you really are bitter today, aren't you?” Hollyberry responds, brow furrowing as she frowns. It's a mix of frustration and concern, unappreciated obviously, but not outright suspicion. Thankfully, one or two mistakes can be passed off as a mere bad mood. “I'd say most cookies are quite fortunate if they end up with the skills and resources to become a merchant, and you'd imply it wasn't very laudable?”

Well, she's said it outright, huh? “Fortune is, indeed, not the most impressive of traits,” he says. Another mistake, strike two on the board, but whatever. He's tired, okay? And she set herself up for that. “But that's come off a bit wrong, I meant to say that he's already got better prospects elsewhere. My apologies, my head isn't quite right today.” He smiles weakly, apologetic and pained. A rather jarring attempt at course-correction, but one Hollyberry takes with one final appraising glance.

“Better prospects, eh?” She says, as they come to a stop at the next stall. There's a bench near this one, a very tempting bench, and Shadow Milk's gaze lingers on it for a second too long. Hollyberry notices, somehow, and her frown softens into something a bit more sympathetic. “You want to sit down? We've walked quite a bit already.” An understatement, as again, the inn they'd stayed in was far from the market streets, and they've taken no breaks upon arrival.

Still, Shadow Milk has an image he wants to convey, and frailty is not part of it. Even the delicate-looking Yogurt Swirl isn't supposed to be as weak and pained as Shadow Milk often finds himself, and if he doesn't show it when not in-character, why would he show it in a character who doesn't struggle like that? “I'm fine, thank you.” He says, words quiet and smile demure. He turns his attention back to Black Sapphire, just in time to catch him reaching for more coins, and the quick illusion makes his shoulders sag just the slightest bit more.

“Well, I'm going to take a break! I'd find it quite rude if you were to leave me on my own.” Hollyberry declares, grabbing Shadow Milk's arm just above his elbow and tugging him along with her. Though she's still too rough on his delicate dough, she's a good large portion gentler than she's been any other time she's thrown an arm over him or pulled him along. The consideration, while likely enough to sway other weaker-willed cookies, only makes Shadow Milk want to sneer. He was fine. As far as she needed to know, and as far as he wanted her to know.

Black Sapphire and Candy Apple are too occupied to notice the sudden change in direction, the departure of their Master, but Wildberry Cookie certainly notices Hollyberrys. She makes a quick gesture to the bench, and though her guard is clearly reluctant, he goes along with the children to the next stall regardless. With that, Hollyberry sits on the bench and tugs Shadow Milk down to sit beside her, only letting go of his arm when he doesn't make any move to immediately leap back up. (Now that he was off his feet for a moment, he really didn't want to get right back on them.)

Shadow Milk would have thought her guard would stick around, actually would have hoped so. Without Shadow Milk, Black Sapphire doesn't have illusory coins that have some physicality. Maybe he could enchant some pebbles to mimic the effect, but that would take a few seconds while a Hollyberrian soldier was looming over his shoulder, and wouldn't be effective if the stall owners tried to handle the coins in any way other than by the flat ends. If Wildberry would have turned around, then Candy Apple would have noticed, and then Black Sapphire would have noticed, which means their group would not have split.

Oh. Shadow Milk winces at the thought. He doesn't really wish to have them out of his sight, either. The bench has a good view of the market, so he can see them if he cranes his neck, but not well. And once the crowds really kick up, that would be moot. And–

“Wildberry won't let any trouble start, don't you worry about them.” Hollyberry chides, gently patting Shadow Milk's arm and drawing his attention back to her. She smiles, something a bit too cheery for Shadow Milk's mood, but it's probably an attempt at reassurance.

“I'm not worried.” Shadow Milk quickly denies, waving a hand dismissively and turning back to try to locate them again. It takes him only a moment of silence from Hollyberry to realise his mistake. Strike three, maybe? He doesn't check. “They can take care of themselves, really. Better than I can.” He presses his lips together, thinned to only a line.

It's probably true. They spent what would have been centuries alone, and came out of it no worse for wear, if a little clingy. Though time had been somewhat frozen, they still felt some of it. They've been aware of how long it's been, too, though he doesn't know exactly how. If they've learned how to use the other-realm to keep an eye on the outside world without leaving the spire, maybe, or even if they've learned the functions of some of the more esoteric rooms of the spire. The outside world should have passed in what felt like seconds to them, maybe weeks if his spellwork was a little flimsy. It's not significant, he supposes, as a data point here. But still. If they were aware of the actual passage of time…

“Swirl?” Hollyberry says, voice gentle and plying. Her hand rests on his shoulder, but almost delicately. Gentle and caring, effortlessly vile. He shakes off her hold and straightens his posture, smile plastered on wider than his character generally allows.

“I'm fine!” He says, voice slightly breathy, too unbelievable. He shakes out his hands as he rocks in place for just a moment, trying to dredge up the willpower to stand again. “Sorry, what were you saying before?” He needs to get a hold of himself. Seriously. He's normally got a better grasp than this, what's with him today.

“... Nothing important.” Hollyberry says as her brow furrows. Shadow Milk stills, humming slightly before finally pushing himself back to his feet. It's agonizing, a terrible idea, and he feels mildly dizzy from the sudden flare of pain– and he ends up right back where he started, gasping as Hollyberry holds his shoulder more bracingly. “Woah, there! How about we stay sitting for a while, yeah?”

Shadow Milk grits his teeth as he presses a hand to his head. The dizziness passes, remarkably quickly even, but his dough still aches. Perhaps he's been too blasé about these things, acting that just because he could tolerate the pain that his body and mind would let him.

“Do you need to see a healer?” Hollyberry asks, and of course she does. She doesn't know this is not something that just heals away. It's in part consequence of how he was baked, and part consequence of his own carelessness that happened to exacerbate the problem. He's tried to fix it, and failed, and even silly Nilly wouldn't be capable of it. The most a healer could do is dull it for a couple hours. The only recovery he has to look forward to is a resting period where he sleeps, and then staying off his feet. Even then, that'll only bring it back to manageable levels, not make it go away.

“No, no. I'll be fine.” Shadow Milk is able to steady himself enough to respond, sighing softly. Tiredly, more like, but if he loses even that smidge of a sense of control, he's going to lose it. He can pretend it's all part of the act, and no one will be the wiser. He's excellent at lying to himself. “I just… need to rest.”

“Are you lying to me?” There's something steely in her voice as her grip tightens, but when he lifts his eyes to glance at her he sees only concern. Pity.

“Of course I am, but a healer won't help what's wrong with me.” It's grating. He's annoyed. He doesn't mean to snap, yet another break of character on the record, but there's nothing to stop himself when he's at his limit. The market isn't crowded yet, but the few dozen trickling in now are too much for him. The low buzz of voices both too close and loud and too far and incoherent grate on him, and he could deal with it any other day, but not now. This entire trip was a series of mistake after mistake after mistake, and it just keeps getting worse.

… maybe he should have slept last night. If he'd been lucky, maybe…

“Oh.” Hollyberry blinks, taken aback, before her expression turns sheepish. “I'm guessing this is why Pure Vanilla wanted me to look out for you.”

Ice pours down Shadow Milk's spine, and he presses his nails into his palms. “I sure hope not. No one is supposed to know.” Shadow Milk glares at her, but he doesn't have the energy to put any heat into it. “If Nilly has any clue, I would have known. This was just…

A bad day. A mistake. You need to forget about it, alright?”

“You know he wouldn't judge you for it. If there's anyone who won't, it's PV.” Talk about obvious. Shadow Milk rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“I don't care about judgement, it's about image.” Another strike for the act, that is not something Yogurt Swirl would say, but he's not exactly thinking of her right now. He thinks about Pure Vanilla, and his concern if he were to know, and it aches. “I'm not fragile, or delicate, or someone in need of help. This little problem of mine is a triviality, and you know how Pure Vanilla will get once he hears of it. All concern and care.” Shadow Milk gags, shaking his head. “I don't need one bit of it.”

Hollyberry doesn't respond for a moment, a moment that grates on Shadow Milk as almost too long. The market is only growing louder, and the sun is only getting unpleasantly warmer, and he's not going to be well enough to move any time soon. Not unless he floats, and he's certainly not going to ruin the act like that. He has, at the least, the barest scrap of normalcy left. This can pass off as a really, really bad day. Escape is far off, all too clearly.

“PV is going to care about you regardless, you know. He already does.” Hollyberry finally says, and Shadow Milk feels his shoulders hunch. He's well aware. One does not blow up a wall if they do not care about the person behind it. Besides that, Pure Vanilla was practically baked from it. A Nilly who doesn't care isn't a Nilly at all. Even Truthless Recluse had cared, though that care was not extended to Shadow Milk. “He'll be hurt that you're hiding this.”

“Would not be the first time I've hurt him,” and probably not the last. He speaks in only a mutter, but that's enough to be heard. Hollyberry can take it as she will, hopefully that will get her to finally leave him be. “I can keep my secrets, can't I? It's not unfair to ask for that.”

“You hurt yourself today, Swirl. You can't even pretend you didn’t.” Hollyberry's voice is sharp, unyielding. “Some secrets I think can be fine, if they're harmless. This isn't harmless, though. This isn't something anyone is entitled to know, but you can't just run yourself into the ground trying to hide it!”

“Ah, yes, I'm going to take advice from you, a person I have known for less than a day collectively.” Shadow Milk sneers. “You weren't supposed to know, so just… leave me alone.” He grits out, turning to lean against the arm of the bench and stare out at the market. They'll probably be on their way back now, right? Certainly, her guard and his minions would not like the crowd separating them. He still can't pick them out of the crowd, no matter how much he tries.

He hears her take in a slow breath, and release it even slower. He braces, but instead of a continuation of the argument– “You're right. I'm thinking about PV's feelings, not yours. I may not like your decision, but it's not mine to make. I don't know you well enough to have any right saying anything about it.” She says, relenting. He doesn't turn to look at her, but his shoulders slowly sink, relaxing. “Let's start over. This conversation didn't happen.” Hollyberry's voice regains its chipper enthusiasm, and he glances over his shoulder at her to see her offering a handshake. He raises a brow, but ultimately turns to slot his hand into hers. One firm shake, and she lets go.

“You won't snitch to Nilly?” He asks, just to be sure, but Hollyberry only puts on a very fake confused expression, the corners of her lips twitching and threatening to break into a smile.

“Tell him what?” She asks, joyfully clueless. Shadow Milk lets out a snort, rolling his eyes. He ends up glancing in just the right direction to catch sight of his minions, and he immediately sits up and smiles to wave at them with appropriate cheer. Candy Apple bounces on her feet as she rushes to join them, squeezes onto the bench between him and Hollyberry before wrapping herself tightly around his torso. Black Sapphire makes a much more casual approach, likely partially because of all the bags he carried, but his steps still quicken and he smiles just slightly.

“Have a pleasant time, dear?” Shadow Milk asks, returning Candy Apple's hug with only a bit of hesitation. Her arms are crushing, but not by far the worst thing for him at this stage. Hollyberry gives him a barely-hidden glance and he shakes his head, a very quiet reassurance that he was fine. She lets it go, turns away to wave over her guard with an exuberant greeting. Good.

As Wildberry Cookie catches up and starts to quietly discuss something with Hollyberry, Candy Apple responds enthusiastically. Her rambling is mostly about all the ways she tried to annoy the heck out of Wildberry, which Shadow Milk “scolds” her for with a subtle wink, but Black Sapphire soon clears his throat to interrupt and say that they've gotten everything they need. They're ready to depart whenever Shadow Milk deigns. It's a pretty decent haul, between what Black Sapphire and Wildberry were carrying. How they were going to haul it all outside of the kingdom was beyond him, they wouldn't be able to stow it away until they were alone again, but he'd figure it out.

He tries again to stand, after Candy Apple unlatches herself to take the bags from Wildberry as ordered by Shadow Milk. He can feel Hollyberry watching him again, but she doesn't say anything. She braces for having to catch him if he falls again, but it ultimately doesn't matter. He's prepared for how much it'll hurt this time, so he manages to remain standing. As a skilled actor, no one notices anything amiss. Thankfully. Getting home would be so much more of a hassle if his dear minions got all twitchy and uppity about a little bit of achy dough, after all.

He's going to hate the next few days, after this. But it's what he gets, for forgetting his limits.

Chapter Text

There's a comfort in sinking into dreams again, after so long apart. He's had his fun in the Hollyberry Kingdom, but he's none too keen on putting off dreaming for yet another night; even if Black Sapphire makes a too-aware comment on his hastiness, it's not like it matters. He'll be too busy to prod at this soon enough. He’s wrong, anyhow. Shadow Milk is eager to sleep because it’ll allow him to recover from the pain of the past few days, not because it means he may see Pure Vanilla again.

He expects a familiar setting; the Vanilla Kingdom, for example. Pure Vanilla dreams of simple things and simple pleasures, of relaxing in his garden or caring for sheep, of reading books and dozing off in the shade as the sun warms the air. It isn't quite what he gets, this time.

The stark whiteness of the walls of too-clean buildings and the deep blue of the too-clear sky are both remarkably unfamiliar, the smell of the ocean on the air a new one to experience in any dream Pure Vanilla has had so far. It looks unnatural, sterile. Perfection perfected, in a manner uncanny and unwelcoming. Pretty, undoubtedly. Not in a manner Shadow Milk likes; it’s uncomfortable. The air feels tense, wound tight with something akin to a thread being pulled taut enough to snap, but it hardly registers in Shadow Milk's mind.

No, he's rather occupied by something a tad more important.

Pure Vanilla sits on an ornate bench, shoulders slumped with exhaustion and a crease in his brow giving way something like unease. His eyes may be closed, but the way his staff settles loosely in the crook of his elbow gives Shadow Milk reason to believe that he's not using it presently, either. Fair enough, as there’s not much worth seeing.

The plaza they're in is wide, with clear signs of a rather populated locale. There are seats pulled out at outdoor cafe fronts, seeds scattered on the ground in front of empty benches with birds carelessly pecking away at them, pruning shears half stuck in partially-trimmed bushes– Pure Vanilla doesn't often dream of busy crowds, but clearly before Shadow Milk's intervention he'd been stuck in the middle of one. The mess is still too neat, too tidy. The seeds scatter in perfect spirals, the pruning shears almost artistically placed.

Everything is too clean and pretty, and excessively bright. And not bright in the manner of the Vanilla Kingdom, where it was at the very least warm light, here it was just… stark. Cold is a hard word to use, when the sun beats down with very little cover to keep it tamed, but it's more fitting than anything else Shadow Milk can think of at the moment. Wherever they are, it is boring, and Shadow Milk doesn't like it one bit.

“You need to start dreaming of more entertaining things, Nilly,” Shadow Milk says.

Pure Vanilla startles upright, knocking his own hat askew with his staff and eyes blinking uselessly before falling closed again. He smiles, bright and cheerful, almost ecstatic to see Shadow Milk present once more. A stark contrast to his almost mopey demeanor just moments before.

“You're here!” He says, pointing out the obvious as he rushes to stand, nearly falling in his haste. It's quite silly; very amusing to watch, very confusing too. Shadow Milk hadn't expected this much of a reaction. “I thought– I worried that I had misunderstood, that you wouldn't dream with me again–”

“I'm a busy busy busy cookie, Nilly, as I said before!” Shadow Milk interrupts, tutting as he shakes his head. He floats around Pure Vanilla, around shoulder height, grinning unnaturally wide as Pure Vanilla attempts to remain facing him. “You should be grateful I managed to squeeze a dream into my schedule, doll. There's still so much that needs doing, rabbits to chase, rumors to spread, I'm fully booked!”

“Then, I am quite grateful.” Pure Vanilla opens his eyes when Shadow Milk stops his circling, tilting his head with an impossibly fond expression, holding his staff with both hands as he leans on it for support. “I missed dreaming with you.”

“Don't get all sappy now,” Shadow Milk says flatly. It's infuriating how simple it is for Pure Vanilla to just say things like that, and even more annoying how much that genuity of his makes the words, eugh, effective. Not that Shadow Milk will ever let on; he masks with a disgusted sneer and narrowed eyes. “If you were really all that grateful, you'd dream up something more entertaining. Seriously, this place is somehow worse than your paltry little Kingdom.”

“I would argue your presence makes it entertaining enough, doesn't it?” Pure Vanilla chuckles, raising the back of his hand to his mouth to muffle the sounds. “It certainly has turned this into a more pleasant dream already.”

That strange atmosphere, Shadow Milk takes care to note now, has started to ebb away. Whatever this dream had once been, Pure Vanilla certainly had to be implying it wasn't a fun one. It made some sense, given his misery prior to Shadow Milk's arrival.

Then again, Pure Vanilla is the clingy sort. Now that they were friends he almost certainly could be miserable just because he's been lacking in quality time with Shadow Milk.

Granted, misery at such a thing is incredibly fair. Who wouldn't miss Shadow Milk terribly if he were to leave?

“Maybe entertaining for you, Nilly, but as much as I love to hear myself talk, it's not quite the same as, say, a stage play, or a game!” Shadow Milk says, poking at Pure Vanilla's shoulder with a pout. “I think, given I was sooooo nice and worked you into my absolutely packed schedule, you should be more accommodating to me.”

Pure Vanilla gives a thoughtful hum, tapping his chin thoughtfully as his eyes slip closed again and he adjusts his staff to better see. “Perhaps I have an idea of something that may, at the least, pacify you for a short while?” He turns, slightly, gesturing with his hand in a vague direction, clearly offering a change of scenery.

“I doubt it, but you can sure try.” Shadow Milk grins, giving an exaggerated bow. “Lead the way, dear Nilly!” Pure Vanilla chuckles again, softly, as he begins to move. Though not before reaching back for Shadow Milk's hand, to gently tug him along. As if Shadow Milk wouldn't follow.

It's more convenient to let him, really. Shadow Milk doesn't have to expend any energy this way, or make any effort to keep up at all. The most pleasant thing about flight, other than the relief it gives his constantly aching legs, is the ability to have others do all the work of travel for him. There's no reason to pull himself away, even if it's rather presumptuous of Pure Vanilla to have grabbed him without asking.

Wherever they are doesn't get any less sparkly perfect as they move along, though the signs of habitation that were in that plaza are left behind. “I've been wondering…” Pure Vanilla starts, pulling them both down a narrow street, the first street to have any sign of wear on the walls. It's only a single hairline crack in the paint, but it's something. “Why is it that you are the only other cookie to appear in these dreams? Before you arrived, this place was just as crowded as it is in reality. I had assumed in other dreams it was simply coincidental, but there’s no reason an entire crowd would leave just seconds before your arrival.”

“Function of the spell,” Shadow Milk answers. “Dreams are finicky and high-cost, so connecting through the normal channels can end up getting you stuck on some other train or in some other mind, plus you have to cast the spell over and over if you want to use it more than once, and navigate yourself. I'm not welcome on the trains, so I can't use them even if I wanted to, but this is also just more convenient.” And, like most dream-walking spells, technically it’s not dream-walking. It’s just, well. Even less dream-walking than other spells of the category. Not that he intends to get into details as inane as that.

“I know that much, at the least. I'm unfamiliar with this spell in particular though.” Pure Vanilla says, humming softly in interest. “You say it's part of how it functions?”

Shadow Milk rolls his eyes, flicking the side of Pure Vanilla's hat with an irritated grunt. “Gee, Nilly, you ask a lot of dumb questions. If you're so curious, go study the spell yourself.”

Pure Vanilla purses his lips, an annoyed little flicker in his expression, but it's gone as fast as it appears. He lets go of Shadow Milk's hand to readjust his hat, but it's only for a moment. Pure Vanilla gives his hand a gentle squeeze when he takes it up again. “Maybe I'll do so. Though, it'll be difficult to find the right spell without any parameters.”

“You'll figure it out. You have enough of a brain to do that much.” Not to mention it's a pretty unique spell, it'll stand out. “I'll give you a hint, though, because I am fair in my games.”

“Is this a game?” Pure Vanilla asks, lips twitching back up into a smile. His steps slow, and he turns slightly as if to face Shadow Milk, though he keeps his staff trained at the path. “Is my task to simply find the answer in a certain span of time, or find the answer at all?”

“Hm…” Shadow Milk taps at his chin thoughtfully, squinting his eyes tightly shut in faux concentration. It's not going to be hard to find, dream magic isn't likely to be held in many records, but Pure Vanilla certainly has a library big enough and old enough it may just hold the answer. Besides that, he had many more useful resources at his disposal. Undoubtedly he'd find it eventually, it's just a question of how long.

“If you can find the spell in three days' time, and figure out how and why we are the only two who appear, then you will win. Once time is up, I'll win!” Shadow Milk grins, as Pure Vanilla comes to a stop.

Shadow Milk hasn't paid much mind to where they were going– it was a dream, so likely they had taken shortcuts or paths that didn't exist anyhow, and this place was not one he wanted to visit in the least– but it seems they've managed to walk somewhere quite clearly residential. Between two large houses sat a narrow grassy lot, a vibrant green and uncut. It's walled in, still, so it's hard to see what exactly it is– except he knows Nilly, doesn't he, so it takes exactly one second to register before Shadow Milk groans.

“Seriously? What is your deal with gardens?” Shadow Milk grumbles, crossing his arms seeing as Pure Vanilla releases his hand upon reaching their destination.

Pure Vanilla ignores his complaint, stepping towards the opened gate with an amused smile tossed over his shoulder to goad Shadow Milk along. “Three days isn't long. Why should I play at all?” He asks, light and airy, carelessly amused. They pass the gate into the grassy lot, and suprise suprise, it's a garden. Go figure. “Will you give me a prize if I win?”

“What, the answers themselves not enough of a prize? I thought you had this whole ‘pursuing the truth’ thing going on?” Shadow Milk glances around with an appraising eye. It's not a flower garden, nor a particularly neat and orderly garden. He hums, just a little appreciative of this little nestle of mess among the too-pretty streets. Only a little.

“If you gave me so little time, then you expect me to find the answers at some point. Why should I rush myself in that case?” Pure Vanilla turns, stepping around a small berry bush and over a patch of inefficiently planted carrots, crossing the garden to sit at a carved stone table, one with only two patio chairs on either side. And, notably, a chessboard, already prepared for play. “I'll offer you a prize if you win, too, if that helps.”

“Fine, fine!” Shadow Milk acquiesces, quickly joining him at the chess board and rubbing his hands together eagerly, grinning as he waits for Pure Vanilla to start. He's playing white, after all. They’re not playing by his preferred rules, so that’s quite fine. “What kind of prize are we talking, though? Anything the winner desires~?”

“Perhaps not anything, there are a few demands I can imagine you'd make that would be unreasonable. But, I am willing to let you choose your prize if you accept those limitations.” Pure Vanilla props his staff up against the table, angled so he could see the board. With that, he opens with a pawn to e4.

“Ditto, then.” Shadow Milk grins, copying the move. “So, whaddya want?”

“Hm…” Pure Vanilla doesn't think much before moving his next piece, which Shadow Milk once again copies. He'll actually start playing seriously in a moment, once the prize matter is settled. Maybe. He knows he'll win anyways, Pure Vanilla is lousy at chess and wont cheat with such low stakes, but there's fun to be had in drawing it out. “May I have some more time to think on the matter?”

“Is picking a prize really that hard for you?” Shadow Milk giggles, viciously knocking over Pure Vanilla's bishop with glee. “We can make our requests after the game is won. That way it's a nice little surprise! We both know what you'd deem an unreasonable request, after all.”

“Hm, that is true.” Pure Vanilla smiles, gently taking Shadow Milk's pawn and setting it aside. “A surprise it is, then?”

“Wonderful!” Shadow Milk coos, crushing Pure Vanilla's knight in retribution. Seriously, a pawn for a knight was a bad trade. When will Nilly learn? “So, I promised a hint.”

“You did suggest such a thing.” Pure Vanilla makes another sloppy move, but Shadow Milk gives him some grace this time. Can't be too mean, now, it's more fun if Pure Vanilla thinks he has a chance.

“The hint is simple.” Shadow Milk starts, focusing more as the game quickens. Nilly is… actually starting to play a little better. Still not good, but he's managed a decent trade or two now. “You're looking for something Blueberry Yogurt Cookie would have written about, but not in a standard textbook.” He was going to give a different hint earlier, but that would have been too easy.

“Blueberry Yogurt Cookie…” Pure Vanilla mutters, finger curled on his chin as he contemplates both the board and the hint. “That gives me a place to start. Thank you, Shadow Milk.”

“Just evening the field, doll~” Shadow Milk grins, sliding his queen forward to put Nilly in check. “Wouldn't be fun if you didn't have a chance.”

“Not that you wouldn't rig the board, so to speak. You do like winning.” Pure Vanilla smiles, too innocently as he tilts his head in that endearing manner. Suddenly, Shadow Milk's queen is gone, and he's on the back foot. How did he–?

Shadow Milk doesn't let his confusion and frustration show, even as he scrambles to readjust. Such a stupid, careless mistake. Did his attention really slip that much?! “I do, I do, you certainly have that right…” He growls, just a tad frustrated. Pure Vanilla isn't even playing two moves ahead! He's only reacting to Shadow Milk's actions, and yet somehow he's pulled back from a surefire loss in only a few turns! “You're kidding me…!”

Pure Vanilla clasps his hands together placidly, smiling softly at Shadow Milk's bewilderment. “I've been practicing. The cookies who tend this garden are very eager teachers.” Pure Vanilla has, somehow, pulled off a checkmate. With only a single pawn-turned-queen, and his own king.

“You can't be serious.” Shadow Milk says, blinking furiously before rubbing his eyes to get a better view of it. But, no. No matter what way you looked, it was clear. Shadow Milk lost. “I wasn't really trying, this isn't an accomplishment!” Shadow Milk snaps, glaring at Pure Vanilla's muffled little giggles. “Set up the board again! Another round!”

“Of course.” Pure Vanilla smiles as he sets up again, even with Shadow Milk glaring daggers at him the whole time.

They play a few more times before Pure Vanilla wakes up. Thankfully, with his attention solely on the game, Shadow Milk doesn't lose again. Even so, he doesn't miss how Pure Vanilla's smile never leaves his face.

Chapter Text

“Isn't this normally a task you'd leave for Candy Apple?” Black Sapphire asks, adjusting the bag over his shoulder as he does one final check on his illusion. Wings disguised as gossamer, fragile things, hair paled to more of a silvery lilac shade, eyes a light blue near gray. Muted colors characteristic of the faeries, skillfully applied.

“Sure, but you're much better at finding information. She can get in and out of places without notice very easily, but there's also the little factor that the Faerie Kingdom knows to expect her. They'll be a little less prepared for you.” Shadow Milk hopes, anyhow. He grabs a pin from the cushion tied to his wrist and sticks it through the fabric, only barely missing piercing Black Sapphire's dough. “Stop fussing, the last thing I need is jam stains in this fabric.”

“Is this really necessary?” Black Sapphire asks with a sigh, though he stills himself as ordered regardless. “It was fitting adequately before.”

“Adequate isn't perfect,” Shadow Milk responds. Another pin is slid into place, and he takes a step back appraisingly before giving a quick nod. “I know you're eager to get out of here and jump into work, but you know a good disguise must be a comfortable one!” Shadow Milk turns back to his sewing machine, checking the tension of the thread with a small hum.

Black Sapphire sighs again, but he doesn't argue as he carefully slips off the vest without knocking out the pins. Shadow Milk has the adjustments done in mere moments, and the second Black Sapphire finishes readjusting the cuff of his sleeve it's clear in the way he stands a little straighter that Shadow Milk had been right. But what was new there, really?

The careful embroidery of delicate moss green vines twining around the hem and collar make a simple piece more visually interesting, an effort that took hardly any time at all with Shadow Milk's skill, and certainly will draw the eye. The vest pairs nicely against a frill-less poet shirt, both being similar but not quite identical shades of lavender gray, with the shirt skewing more lavender and the vest skewing gray. Heeled boots give him an extra inch of height, and lace up to his knees, pants tucked in. It’s more simple and less formal than Black Sapphire typically likes, but on such short notice it’s all Shadow Milk could put together in time. Putting the effort in to make clothes for disguises is not always worth it, but for some characters it's easier to get into the mindset if you had something tangible to grasp. Besides that, Shadow Milk usually enjoyed the process, and it’s certainly one he enjoys when his pain is a bit too sharp.

His minions had more mixed opinions on the matter, skewing negative. Mostly because they both hated the process of getting fitted. They certainly love the attention, and the clothes, and the fact that Shadow Milk has made them for them, but ask either of them to sit still long enough for a fitting and suddenly they had every reason to avoid the process entirely. Too bad for them, not having to place an illusion over their clothes conserved energy, and that meant that it was necessary for missions expected to run long or expected to come with potential dangers. This shouldn’t be, but could become, the former, but it definitely is the latter. So, a true costume it shall be.

“There he is! Muscari Faerie, dear, how do you feel?” Shadow Milk coos, circling Black Sapphire once and checking that the flowers in his hair hadn't fallen out any. They're not real flowers, but they're passable if no one comes close. Grape hyacinth isn't exactly a hard plant to mimic. An argument could be made for practicality if one notices, regardless. His hair isn't really long enough to be tied up in a bun, but it's thick enough that it'll hold a pin regardless, and illusions can make it look like it is the proper length. Not a hair out of place, and flowers perfectly secure, Shadow Milk deems it passable with a firm nod.

“I feel patronised.” Black Sapphire sighs, once again. But there’s a twitch at his lips, a flicker of a smile there, one Shadow Milk doesn't miss. He's having fun. Good! “Is there really no other place to check?”

“Oh, sure, but none so close.” Shadow Milk waves him off, shaking his head with a quiet tut. “I don't want you gone for most of the day, after all. There's still this library to search, too.” He grins. “Besides, this is part of your punishment! Your protests only encourage me.”

“Can't Candy Apple search the library by herself?” Black Sapphire asks. It would certainly be unfair if he were to take the brunt of the work, and that isn't really Shadow Milk's intention. But any attention levelled at one must be given the other, or else they're going to whine his ears off about it later. So today, instead of trawling through books and chasing out rabbits, she will be doing something of slightly less import. Telling Candy Apple that this was for work would not really deter her from making a fuss about the fact that Black Sapphire got to spend some quality time with Shadow Milk and she did not.

“She will be, rest assured.” Just not so immediately. And certainly, she wouldn't be getting around making up for the brief break after it’s done. “Now! That's enough questions from you, Sapphy. We're burning daylight!”

Black Sapphire carefully dodges the hand reaching to muss up his hair. Even if it won't necessarily break the illusion with how thick he's woven it, it would likely make the hairpin fall out. “I'll keep an ear out for news on the other Beasts’ movements, as well,” he offers. It’s not an idea that Shadow Milk hasn’t thought of, but he dislikes it regardless.

“You stay far away from that half of a half, you hear me?” Shadow Milk frowns, poking a finger at Black Sapphire's chest sternly. “And the Silver Tree Knights, too, while you’re at it. No unnecessary risks! We need one spell, got it? It should be a quick retrieval, in and out, no delays! If you happen to overhear something, that's one thing. Good on you, take that initiative, whatever. But don't get in over your head, capisce?”

Black Sapphire nods, lips twitching into a small smile. “Of course, Master Shadow Milk.” He steps back, gives a very slight bow with a jittery flutter of his wings. The illusion over them isn't settling well. That’s odd, Black Sapphire has never had a problem like that with his illusions before. Shadow Milk frowns, reaches a hand out to stop him, but Black Sapphire steps back into a shadowy portal before he can say a word.

Sigh.

Well, no one will stare at his wings, of all things. Not in the Faerie Kingdom, where it's more notable to lack them. If that illusion flickers when he moves too quickly, it doesn't matter. He'll be fine. He’s not going to be in such a rush anyhow.

Shadow Milk bites at his thumb, glaring at his sewing machine for lack of a proper target. If his eyes could only reach that far, if he had spent more time preparing– but, Black Sapphire is a talented actor, and always has been. He can handle it. Shadow Milk just has to remember that.

The door bursts open, but that's no surprise. Candy Apple has been waiting her turn for attention for the better half of the morning so far, and she can sense when a portal has opened or closed just as well as the rest of them. Better now, probably, now that she has more of a foundation in magic.

“You said you had a fun surprise for me!” She says, latching onto Shadow Milk's arm and shaking him with gusto. It's successful in getting his mind off all the ways Black Sapphire's mission could go wrong, if only temporarily. For an impulsive decision made without fully thinking it through, this was remarkably well thought-out. Not Black Sapphire's mission, that had been the plan since his too-close-to-mocking remarks when they'd arrived home yesterday, but his plans with Candy Apple.

“Indeed I do, Candy!” Shadow Milk wipes away his frown and replaces it with a bright grin, eyes squinting with cheer and not worry. “I decided that toiling away with fabric and pricking my fingers with needles is a task better shared, so you get to learn from me the magic of sewing!” Shadow Milk tilts his free hand, gesturing out at the bolts cast on the ground in a, well, not organized per se, but definitely not un-organized mess of fabric.

Candy Apple gapes at him, before whipping her head to the fabric bolts, and then back to him with a smile so wide he worries for a moment that she'll crack her dough. She squeals as she giggles, hopping in place with an enthusiasm unmatched by any cookie on Earthbread. “Really?!” She asks, though her voice is pitched so high and sharp it might as well be inaudible. He should have brought earplugs, that can’t be good for his hearing.

“Yep! And to start–” Shadow Milk reaches behind himself, casting about the surface of his workstation until his fingers brush the item he'd prepared. He quickly grabs it and reveals it with a flourish, pushing the embroidery hoop into her hands and quickly pulling himself back out of reach. “Basic stitches and embroidery~!”

Candy Apple looks at the hoop and the blank canvas of fabric stretched out within it, and then back up at his face like he'd hung the stars in the sky. It's not a new expression on her in the least, but it's… milder, this time. Or maybe that's wishful thinking.

He goes through the motions, teaching her how to thread a needle, the different sizes and kinds of needles for different tasks, and then demonstrating on his own pre-prepped hoop how to do a simple running stitch. She's a little too eager, rushing her work until it ends up a little crooked, but practice will make perfect. Besides, a crooked stitch is still better than a loose one, or one pulled too tight. So for a first attempt, it may as well be perfect. He has her try again a second time, and it’s certainly much straighter that time around. With that, they move on to the next stitch.

They stop once Shadow Milk's hoop is filled with all sorts of different stitches, and Candy Apple's is… well. A mess of slightly loose thread and crooked stitches, but it's an excellent beginning! Especially given her attempts at more complex things, such as the woven wheel, were identifiable still! As a basic runthrough, he didn't expect her to have much success at all. She asks for another piece of fabric, too. So clearly, she was having fun learning from him. All smiles, no frustration save for when she couldn't get a stitch to line up right, only eager for the next scrap of information Shadow Milk gave her.

By the time lunch rolls around, she's filled a second hoop's worth of stitches, and starts working on a third. Shadow Milk had to teach her how to reposition fabric on the hoop herself, too, before she would let him start making their meal. He hadn't expected this much enthusiasm at all, but… it's nice. Sewing is one of those activities he enjoys, so it's a good feeling to be able to share it with someone. It’s quite nice to have his enthusiasm for a subject matched, or perhaps exceeded in this case. Candy Apple seems incapable of enjoying anything without putting her entire soul into it.

Black Sapphire returns just in time to be handed a warm plate, but doesn't say much about his time in the Faerie Kingdom other than to say he didn't find the spell. It means he'll have to try again tomorrow, but before Shadow Milk can feel much trepidation at the thought Candy Apple begins to show off to him what she's been learning. The ensuing argument they get into, that Shadow Milk is unwillingly dragged into, is enough of a distraction to stave off that encroaching dread, however.

Chapter Text

Shadow Milk sets down the paper puppets, careful not to crease or tear them. He'd spent a lot of time getting them just so, and it'd be a shame to only get one use out of them. With a snap of his fingers the sconces on the wall light once again, and he blows the lantern he'd been using out.

Shadow plays were something new and fascinating, an art he'd studied when visiting the Flour Mountains and the other nearby communities. While seemingly simple, the process was complex and it had been so difficult to master alone. He's the Fount of Knowledge, after all, and asking to be taught would shake the cookies’ faith in him. He's equipped to figure things out quickly, so it's not much of a hassle, but it's taken him a week regardless.

This is the culmination of all that effort. Here, at the very end of his first show, he slips from behind the scrim and steps to the edge of the stage. He grins at his audience of two, cheered by the enthusiastic clapping of one Caster Sugar, but it's the cookie sat beside her that he truly wishes to hear from. The art did originate in her lands, after all.

“Well? What did you think?” He asks, gesturing back at the scrim his show had played out upon. “It'd certainly be a fun way to learn, no?”

“I liked it!” Caster Sugar cheers, feathery wings flapping as she rises out of her seat, though she clings to the back of the seat in front of her to keep from truly ascending. “Don't you think it was just grand, Flour?”

With both of the two most enthusiastic cookies watching her, White Flour turns her head almost uncomfortably, her smile slightly strained. “Well… it was certainly entertaining…” she says, but if that were all she wouldn't look so constipated. Shadow Milk frowns.

“You can say what you like! I'm open to any and all criticisms, that's why I wanted you all to be the first to see it!” It's a shame that Marsala Spice and Bamboo Salt couldn't come, but they sent their rejections with promises of being there for the next one. Shadow Milk will hold them to it, they're well aware of that, so it's fine. “Your opinion matters most, too, I did have to visit your region to learn this art, after all.”

“Well. Then I'll be blunt,” White Flour starts, taking in a deep breath before letting it out again. When she meets Shadow Milk's gaze again, her expression is apologetic. “I simply do not see the point in it. Certainly, it's entertaining. Definitely informative. But… why put in this effort for what would be a, frankly, significantly shorter lecture? It doesn't leave much room for cookies to ask for clarification or deeper understanding, either.” White Flour dips her head. “I don't see a point changing your methodology. You are excellent at what you do, Blueberry, you don't need to spruce it up with bells and whistles.”

Shadow Milk doesn't flinch, or let his smile fall. He's asked for her feedback, and she has given it. White Flour was always blunt in these matters, so it shouldn't bother him any. It doesn't. Truly.

“Well, I was thinking children may appreciate a lesson framed like this more! It's an audience I haven't quite been able to reach effectively yet, they don't sit well for lectures.” Shadow Milk gestures back at the curtain, flicking his wrist to have plush mannequin sized puppets fall to dangle from the ceiling. “I was considering other kinds of shows, or even employing some of my more dedicated students to put on plays with actual actors. But shadow puppets are simple to make, and the detail is limitless if you've got skill!”

“That's clever, isn't it?” Caster Sugar says, glancing down at White Flour as her fluttering starts to slow. “Plus, the adults attending will be able to appreciate the art!”

“Perhaps so, but how much time will it take for you to make more shows like this?” White Flour asks, another question that is fair of her. Shadow Milk can feel his excitement dull, and already, he knows what the conclusion shall be.

“It took me the better part of a week.” He admits, glancing away as he wraps his arms around himself. “But I'll get faster with time! I only need to–”

“You should focus on your studies.” White Flour interrupts, and this time Shadow Milk can't help but flinch back. She notices, of course she notices, but that only brings her apologetic expression back. “My dear Blueberry Milk, I know you wish to make this more fun, but we have responsibilities we must not push aside. I love your willingness to experiment, and I enjoy seeing what you create, but we mustn't get caught up in distractions.”

“Oh, Flour.” Caster Sugar mutters, so soft Shadow Milk nearly doesn't hear it. But this is a lecture hall. It's made to carry voices.

“You're right.” Shadow Milk responds, plastering that grin back on his face, shaking his head with a weak, but hopefully convincing enough, laugh. “This was just another of my silly ideas. I'm very grateful you took the time to visit and see, though. You really helped.”

Caster Sugar looks at him with a frown, clearly seeing his distress no matter how much he wishes to hide it, but White Flour takes him at face value. Of course she does. Why would he ever lie?

“I am always glad to see you.” White Flour says, and for all that it is the truth it doesn't ease Shadow Milk's pain any. She may be a balm to most any ailment, but emotions were not her forte. He loves her, dearly, she's one of his greatest friends, but she certainly knows exactly how to break his spirit without ever meaning to. “Perhaps next time, you may visit my Pagoda? I have new teas for us to try.”

“Certainly!” Shadow Milk responds, brightly. White Flour smiles, gives a slow wave goodbye, and gracefully makes her way through the seats and out the door. Caster Sugar watches her go, and only once she's well and truly gone does her attention shift back to Shadow Milk.

“Blue?” She starts, but she doesn't get much farther. In the span of one blink, she is gone. The hall is empty, and Shadow Milk is alone.

His eyes squeeze shut tightly, and he tucks his arms close to himself.

“Shadow Milk?”

Or, no. He's not alone. Now. Of course. He's dreaming. Talking to illusions crafted of his own memories, as if they were real. How silly of him.

“Where are we?” Pure Vanilla muses, as Shadow Milk drops his arms and turns to face him. Pure Vanilla spins slowly, wielding his staff to allow him to see the beautiful lecture hall that only exists in memory now, until he comes to a stop facing Shadow Milk. He gasps, softly, and it's then that Shadow Milk thinks to look at himself. “Shadow Milk, you look–”

–ridiculous, clad in robes that Pure Vanilla has only seen on a fake statue, wearing a pathetic little crown that means nothing, with hair that doesn't writhe with a mind seemingly of its own and lacks the many eyes that give him most of his sight. Shadow Milk hisses, immediately snapping his fingers and returning his form to normal.

“How annoying,” Shadow Milk grumbles. He looks up at Pure Vanilla again, whose expression is that of pure surprise. With his eyes closed and his grip on his staff so tight, it's not hard to imagine that he's staring. It's harder to truly tell, now that his staff is all light and no eye, but Shadow Milk thinks he can read him pretty well by now. Well. When he isn't being purposefully incognizant. “What's that look for?”

Pure Vanilla shakes himself out of whatever that was, turning his head slightly as if to avert his eyes as he raises his hand to cover his mouth. Whether he's actually stopped staring or not is not something Shadow Milk can tell anymore, with the light of the staff being as unwavering and unchanging no matter what direction Pure Vanilla chooses to look. “Nothing, nothing. You just… surprised me.” Pure Vanilla says, though it's clear in his hesitant delivery it's a blatant lie.

Shadow Milk doesn't care for it, but he also doesn't particularly want whatever truth Pure Vanilla clearly thinks better of sharing. “Don't I always?” Shadow Milk grins, kicking himself up into the air, floating over to meet Pure Vanilla by the scrim still prepared for the shadow play.

His first paper puppets were bland, boring silhouetted things. Shadow plays were an interesting foray into the world of the stage, but he likes puppets with strings to pull and colors to draw eyes their way much more. But that's all a distraction from what truly matters here.

“Mm.” Pure Vanilla responds, an unsatisfactory answer, but Shadow Milk graciously allows it. If only because Pure Vanilla still seems quite off put by the dream’s odd beginning. “Is this… a stage? It's an unusual one.” He reaches out a hand to graze the edge of the scrim, but Shadow Milk catches his wrist.

Both of them fall silent for a moment, mutual surprise hanging in the air before Shadow Milk releases him and floats up higher, reclining in the air with leg crossed over his knee and arms folded over his chest. Casual, careless. The eyes in the shadows of his hair may watch Pure Vanilla carefully, but his true eyes glare up at the ceiling like it's personally wronged him. “Technically, you're not wrong.” Shadow Milk grumbles.

Pure Vanilla tilts his head up to watch him, his useless eyes drifting open as he frowns softly. He's capable of reading the tension in Shadow Milk's voice, but that doesn't mean he knows how much pushing he may do before Shadow Milk snaps again. He's always pushed the bounds of it before, or ignored it wholesale for whatever point or purpose he was trying to sell. Shadow Milk expects it of him, and braces for it accordingly.

But tonight, perhaps because he's learned from his mistakes, or perhaps because he's aware that Shadow Milk needs him to restrain himself just this once, he doesn't.

“Your hint for our game was rather clever, I realise.” Pure Vanilla says, and Shadow Milk hears the tap of his staff against the wooden floor. He turns to watch Pure Vanilla properly, eyes trailing after him as he makes his way to the end of the stage and slowly lowers himself to sit there, legs dangling off the edge.

For a lecture hall, a raised stage is a very slightly unusual design. Ordinarily you're meant to keep level with the lowest row, with the seats raising the further back they are from the lectern, but Shadow Milk has long ago found that when you're a being of infinite knowledge cookies tend to crowd you if given the chance. Hence, the raised stage. There are no curtains, other than the scrim he's stretched out for his puppet show, and no stage lights, or anything to make the stage anything more than a raised platform to deliver lessons from, and not a particularly tall one. Pure Vanilla's feet touch the ground, and he's not a particularly tall cookie.

“I can't make things too easy for you.” Shadow Milk responds, perhaps a bit slowly. He's still off center from his dream– he'll shake it off soon enough, it is hardly something to care about, but being in this place certainly isn't helping. It's filled with vile recollections, memories better off buried with the cookie he no longer was. It's a practical gravesite, really, one made of memory and feeling. “But go on, I assume this means you haven't found the answers yet?”

He drifts down, floats to the edge of the stage and circles Pure Vanilla for a moment before settling beside him to sit. It's only slightly annoying that his feet only barely brush the ground when he sits, a problem easily alleviated by criss-crossing his legs underneath him. It has the added bonus of allowing a casual point of contact Shadow Milk can pretend is unintentional, his knee gently pressing against Pure Vanilla's thigh.

“No, I have not.” Pure Vanilla smiles, placing his staff down beside him and then folding his hands in his lap. “Blueberry Yogurt Cookie is the founder of Blueberry Yogurt Academy, and a rather prolific author. I had long thought that I had everything he'd ever written, if not in my own library, then in one I may still access just by visiting my old school.”

“You don't,” Shadow Milk giggles. Pure Vanilla's smile is fond, even if his sigh and the shake of his head conveys a slight exasperation.

“I realise that,” he says. Pure Vanilla opens his eyes, tilts his head to face Shadow Milk with an openly sappy expression, hair cascading down like sunbeams escaping the clouds. “You were telling me to search for books you had authored, weren't you? Blueberry Yogurt was a pen name. I imagine you had more than one.”

Shadow Milk stares at him, taken aback. He didn't think Pure Vanilla would figure it out so quickly. Still, he has an image to upkeep, so he quickly masks his surprise with a mischievous grin. “Clever, right? You got so distracted by a familiar name you wasted an entire day looking for manuscripts that didn't exist!”

“Not a waste,” Pure Vanilla says, voice soft with fondness, leaning closer to press his shoulder against Shadow Milk's. “Because I can recognize your writing, now. You have a very… distinct voice, even in your writing. It's a wonder how I didn't make the connection before.”

“Not much of one. Those days are looooong behind me, doll! I don't write, and I don't teach.” Shadow Milk can't meet Pure Vanilla's eyes anymore, the familiar flutter in his stomach too great with his face this close. It's uncomfortable, but not unpleasant. He can't bring himself to move away. He can't even bring himself to want to. Pathetic. Vile. Sickening. “In fact, I'm shocked you think there's any resemblance! What makes you so sure I wrote those books, and that I'm not taking credit from some other cookie?”

“Your pride,” Pure Vanilla says. Shadow Milk nearly, but doesn't quite, startles when he feels Pure Vanilla's hand reach for and entwine with his own. “For one. You think other cookies well beneath you, and although that's not a very pleasant trait, it helps me to know that you wouldn't take credit for work you weren't impressed with. And no ordinary cookie may impress you, so it has to truly be your own.” Pure Vanilla chuckles softly, his thumb rubbing over Shadow Milk's knuckles. “For another… I'm starting to know you. Is it truly a shock that you may have not changed as much as you think you have?”

Shadow Milk pulls his hand out of Pure Vanilla's grasp, leaning back with his arms behind to keep him propped upright. He levels a bored look Pure Vanilla's way, eyes narrowed. “I know exactly how much I've changed, Nilly. You're delusional if you think otherwise.” Not that that would be new of him.

Pure Vanilla hums, but doesn't reply immediately. He watches Shadow Milk, though that's hard to say when Shadow Milk is only a blur in his eyes, with something analytical in his gaze. But whatever conclusion he comes to he doesn't share. Shadow Milk is getting tired of that.

He groans exaggeratedly, uncrossing his legs to let them dangle over the edge of the stage as he moves his arms to let himself fall back. Lying on the stage this way isn't something he's done before, but he finds himself pleasantly surprised at how comfortable it is. With his arms spread out either side of him he's sure he makes a ridiculous image, and Pure Vanilla's muffled snickering tells him he's at least partially right.

“You're boring me, ‘Nilla, you're boring me to death!” He cries forlornly, turning his head to lazily cast an arm over his eyes. “I'm afraid I won't wake up from this dream, my true eyes will open again no longer! My poor, poor minions will wait outside my door, knocking and knocking, but there will be no answer. How will they ever move on from this travesty?”

Pure Vanilla lightly swats his arm, but his muffled giggles belie his amusement. Shadow Milk peeks out at him, lips twitching into a smile when their eyes happen to meet. “Oh, I'm so sorry. However shall I make up for this grave offense?” Pure Vanilla says, leaning over him very slightly, eyes shimmering like stars. A tempting sight. Shadow Milk is careful to keep his ideas firmly in his head, and far from his mouth. “Is there any way you may yet be saved?”

“Nnnope! It's already too late for me! I'm deader than a doornail, you've really done me in!” Shadow Milk bemoans dramatically, turning his head to hide his smile in the crook of his arm more effectively. Pure Vanilla sighs, and then surprises him by laying on his side beside him. Or, not just beside him, but close, too, with his head resting on Shadow Milk's extended arm.

“How dreadful, it seems as if this malady is contagious.” Pure Vanilla says, settling his hand on Shadow Milk's chest, curling up comfortably and letting his eyes fall closed again. “A shame.” He yawns, gently, but his smile betrays him.

“Don't you dare pretend to sleep here! Get off of me!” Shadow Milk scolds, jerking his arm up to uncover his face to level a proper glare at him, but making no move to push Pure Vanilla off. “We're in a dream! You literally can't sleep, it's not even a good lie!”

“Hm, perhaps. But I'm comfortable here.” Pure Vanilla responds, patting Shadow Milk's chest softly. “You wouldn't preclude a dying man his final comforts, would you?”

“I absolutely would, don't you have any idea who you're talking to?” Shadow Milk covers his steadily warming face once again with a groan. “You're unbelievable, you know that?”

“You could move me if you truly wanted,” Pure Vanilla says. “I have no doubts that you would have already, if you truly minded any.”

“Shut up.” Shadow Milk grumbles, letting his eyes fall shut. “You could stand to be more quiet, as a dying man.”

“As quiet as you are?” Pure Vanilla chuckles.

“Exactly."

That's not the end of the dream, of course. Eventually they get up, they chat and bicker about more things, Shadow Milk even brags about Candy Apple's swift progress learning how to sew. But for a good long time, they just lay there, content in the other's presence.

It's a nice dream.

Chapter Text

With Black Sapphire out in the Faerie Kingdom and Candy Apple busy with searching their own library, Shadow Milk finds himself thoroughly lacking things to do. Sure, he can monitor what progress Candy Apple makes, but it's all too likely it'll distract her, and besides that it might end up with him dragging her away for more sewing practice. He wants their punishment over with as much as they do, so letting her work was imperative.

He really should have picked a shorter term punishment, or even really just given up on it by this point, but now it was… well. It'd just be more useful if the library is organised again, if the books are restored. He doesn't have to read them ever again, but his minions likely would benefit. And keeping them working on these specific tasks keeps them in his reach, while his power is still slightly diminished and his sight keeps him from being able to check in on them with only a mere thought. He knows exactly where they are this way, even if Black Sapphire is in a slightly more precarious place.

His hobbies are fine to indulge in, but he's found himself with a stubborn block on what to make. There's no plushies or outfits to sew, or puppets to craft. Staging a show is only entertaining when his minions are there to participate or watch. Writing a script doesn't appeal, and cooking is pointless until mealtime.

He's got plenty experience with boredom and tedium, but it's the last thing he wants to put up with. So, he makes a bad decision. (What else is new?)

Yogurt Swirl Cookie's final performance was dull, to be fair. A second attempt was, likely, an inevitability. He's always had a distaste for unsatisfactory writing, after all, and he knows his performance could have been better. It's perhaps a bit soon to return, but he'll work on his excuses if it comes to it.

It's not likely he'll need them. What are the chances he runs into Hollyberry Cookie again? Once was Pure Vanilla's fault, the second time Candy Apple's quick thinking, but travelling to the Hollyberry Kingdom alone meant there was no chance of a third party dragging her his way. (Pure Vanilla was busy with research, so it was unlikely he'd appear.)

Slipping into conversations is quite easy, for a cookie who's greatest weapon has always been a sharp mind and a silver tongue. The unassuming Yogurt Swirl Cookie isn't a woman any would really deem worth caution, so a few quick hellos allow her access to the social scene of the Kingdom. It's just low-tier gossip, who-is-seeing-whom and what-is-doing-what, none of it of important names or any cookie he particularly cares about, but even the smallest of rumors can be quite entertaining if you know the right threads to tug.

Everyone knows community is just a house of cards waiting for the breeze to shake things up a bit, and Shadow Milk is quite happy to play the role. It's good fun, plain and simple, and really, soon as he gets a few good lies rolling, he'll be satisfied enough to return home. He can witness the fallout the next time he arrives at the market, with a different face that will bear none of the consequences. His best work always leaves a noticeable stain on the world, so there's no missing it.

He's been making a good show of it, drifting between groups and individuals and getting as much gossip squeezed out of these poor little saps as he can. Twisting their own words is the simplest, but most effective, way to start. He wouldn't be a trusted source without the credentials, after all. Talking to as many cookies as he can is integral to his plans.

Shadow Milk is busy ingratiating himself to a gaggle of giggling housewives, a group that gives off the airs of notoriously horrendous gossips, when he suddenly feels a light tap on his shoulder. Immediately, his mood sinks.

“Oh! It's the Princess!” One of the women gasps, keeping her voice low for only the group to hear. They all turn to watch as Shadow Milk, reluctantly, steps back and turns to face the music. His luck is simply terrible, isn't it?

Sure enough, there she is, in her sweet bundle of pink glory. Princess Cookie smiles brightly once she has his attention, and Shadow Milk cookie is careful to restrain his hesitant smile into one of only polite reluctance and not irritation.

“Your Highness,” Shadow Milk speaks softly, carefully, giving a deep curtsey as he holds his skirts. “Is there a reason you tapped on my shoulder? I hope I haven't done anything to offend you.”

“Nope! Hollyberry Cookie and I were just walking around when she happened to see you, and I decided to say hello for her!” Princess Cookie speaks plainly, eager and chipper in equal parts. “She didn't want to interrupt your conversation.”

“Oh!” Shadow Milk exclaims softly, though in the back of his mind a flicker of irritation swells. Of course she's around. Of course. Screw terrible, that's not a strong enough adjective. Try, abysmal, perhaps. Truly abysmal luck.

“You know the Queen Mother, Miss Swirl?” One of the housewives– what was her name… ah, right. Lime Tea Cookie– says, eyes shimmering with interest, covering her mouth with her hand as she leans in for the hot scoop. The cookie to her left, Robin's Egg Cookie, swats her arm with a chiding click of her tongue.

“Don't be so nosy, now.” She says, but when she glances at Shadow Milk it's clear that she's overly curious too. “Besides, Her Majesty strays from the higher court more often than not. It's not uncommon to meet her in casual setting.”

“Yeah, but that's different from knowing her.” The youngest of the housewives chitters, Choco Berry Cookie, as if Robin's Egg is being dull on purpose. Which, really, she is, but when she's caught out she gets rather huffy about it. “Clearly she spoke of Miss Swirl to her family, which means they're acquainted.”

And here is where Shadow Milk's careful wheedling into their gossip circle falls apart. All thanks to one nosy little Princess and her loudmouthed grandmother. Now, Yogurt Swirl has been elevated to a status of worth talking about, which means she won't gather anything entertaining from gossips anymore. Now, she's a risk to share with. Ugh.

“She wants to talk to you! She wasn't expecting to see you again so soon, though.” Princess Cookie has all the tact of a carrion bird, or perhaps just a stubborn mind determined to have her way regardless of consequence. She would not be the only one in her family to be so bull-headed.

The eyes of the housewives burn the back of his neck as he carefully acts the part of a modest, nervous maiden. “O-oh, well, I suppose I should go speak with her, then?” He asks, running a hand over the end of his braid a couple times. He glances back at the cookies he will never remember the names of again and smiles awkwardly, pushing his glasses back up on his face as he waves a farewell. “It was a pleasure to meet you, you're all quite lovely company!”

They really were no more interesting than a particularly dull rock. And at least a rock would have more personality.

“She's this way!” Princess Cookie declares, quickly grabbing Shadow Milk by the wrist and yanking him along at a quick pace before the housewives even get a chance to chirp their goodbyes. He stumbles as he's pulled along, the girl ridiculously strong for her size, and regret coils in his chest as his ankles start to sting much sharper than before. An ache is manageable, but walking through the Kingdom streets in this state is just going to be more miserable than falling into the fires of the oven.

Luckily, Hollyberry isn't very far at all. Just turn a corner at a streetlight and march a small distance down the road, enter a quaint little hovel that's no more assuming than any other hole in the wall, and there she is. Selling what was likely some parts taken off the monsters that swell Dark Enchantress’ forces, given they still take residence in the forest just over the river.

Shadow Milk doesn't really have to hide how uncomfortable and disgusted the place makes him, Yogurt Swirl is a very particular cookie and Hollyberry has seen her at her worst, as he tucks his arms in close and hunches down to keep from brushing against any of the clutter. Princess Cookie is unbothered, just as at home here as her dear grandmother was, and her steps do not slow until she reaches her side. And of course, Shadow Milk is dragged along.

“Oh! Princess, there you are–!” Hollyberry starts, turning with a bright and wide grin as she places a hand on her grandchild's head, pausing when she notices the victim she's dragged in with her. Her face falls into belated shock, brow furrowing, but in a moment that clears back into a humored grin. “Why, if it isn't Miss Yogurt Swirl! I thought I told you not to bother her, Princess?” She sends a playful glare down at the child, who finally releases her hold on Shadow Milk's wrist to cross her arms.

“She could have said no!” Princess Cookie responds, either woefully oblivious to the expected dynamics at play here or simply intentionally obtuse. “It's not like I dragged her here.” Ah, how cute. A really terrible lie, she's not even trying.

Shadow Milk rubs his sore wrist and gets that look from Hollyberry again, the “commiserating over the behavior of children” one, which he winces at as he smiles along in response. If he weren't the one playing victim to her trouble, he'd find Princess Cookie entertaining, but as it is…

“Sorry about her,” Hollyberry says, propping her elbow up on the counter and leaning against it with a particular lack of care. The clerk has yet to be back with her payment, so it's a game of waiting now. “I'm sure you'll understand, you mention one tiny thing and the kids just run off with it.” Hollyberry lets out a fond chuckle, even as Princess Cookie gets a bit huffy at being talked about like she wasn't even there.

“I certainly do,” Shadow Milk quietly laughs along. Black Sapphire and Candy Apple certainly did do that exact thing, which is why they've been put to work so strictly. “It's really not a problem.” It is. “She mentioned you wanted to talk?” Which is, also, a problem.

Hollyberry glances down at Princess Cookie before her lips twitch back into a confident smirk. “Perhaps later. I've got to get Princess Cookie back home first.” The clerk returns with a small money pouch, which is dropped into Hollyberry's expectant palm without another word. Though, that's likely due to her company. “Say, you could join us if you'd like. I'd like the company at least!”

“I wouldn't want to intrude,” Shadow Milk says, chuckling lightly. “Though the offer is quite sweet, I'd feel quite terrible accepting it.”

“Nonsense! You'll come with us, it's not intruding in the least.” Shadow Milk tilts his head, smile plastered on as relaxed and easy as Hollyberry would expect it to be. Internally, though, he sneers. Why ask if you won’t take no for an answer?! He was quite clear–! “At this point, we're just waiting on–”

“Princess Cookie–!” The door crashes open, disturbing a heap of clutter and causing it to fall. A knight in white chocolate armor rushes in, tripping over the mess he'd made and landing quite commedically on his face. Princess Cookie sighs, delicately stepping over the mess to help him up, likely doing all the work given how dazed his expression is when he gets upright once again. Poor thing.

Hollyberry claps her hands together, grinning brightly as she pushes herself off the counter. “There he is! Let's move out!” Hollyberry points dramatically to the door, or more likely just in a general adventuresome gesture. Shadow Milk almost begins to hope that he won't be physically dragged along, that he could slip away and escape, but alas.

Before Hollyberry steps past him, she throws an arm around his shoulder, bracing in order to help support him as he walks. It does lessen the ache just a smidge, so he'll accept it. Begrudgingly. He still won't be happy about it.

It was not his intention to get dragged into Hollyberry's family outing, even if it's only the final dregs of it. There's a select few reasons why he chose the Hollyberry Kingdom in the first place, for his little romp outside of the spire, but none of them really should have outweighed the potential drawback of running into Hollyberry. She's not intolerable, but it's a bad idea to get so close to the ancients, especially one who hasn't faced their counterpart yet.

Eternal Sugar would have his head for it, if she knew. He likes to bother her, her anger can be pretty funny, but normally he's in a better state to handle her tantrums. Normally he was actually capable of mitigating any damage she may do. With his magic still just drops of the ocean it once was and his body particularly frail as of late, pestering her without proper precautions would be a stupid idea. He's a jester, not a fool.

But he doesn't try to make his excuses to leave, and as Hollyberry makes small talk he responds in kind. The act is simple, so it hardly takes much active effort, and Princess Cookie is a character much better enjoyed when you realise her Knight isn't the most competent cookie and he distracts her quite well enough. It's partially curiosity that keeps him stuck, partially a dim acknowledgement that Pure Vanilla would likely frown at him if he didn't make an effort to be at the very least cordial to Hollyberry and her cohort. Mostly the curiosity, though.

Hollyberry likely suspects that Eternal Sugar is going to pop up soon. It's clear in every brief wary glance at the shadows, at the twitch of her hand when something in the edge of her vision moves too quickly, in the way she speaks about how fortunate they were that she still had time to spare. She's no fool, as brash as she may be, and clearly any news of her friends facing their beasts has made her expect something dramatic and noticeable. She's antsy, either eager to be done with it or eager to start facing it, and in her mind it can occur at any second. By now, though, Shadow Milk believes Eternal Sugar won't be making any moves of her own whatsoever. That would require leaving her precious garden, and it would be work.

It's logical to assume otherwise, given the more active approaches Burning Spice and Mystic Flour had taken to draw out their counterparts. Even Shadow Milk had actively lured his other half in and been a threatening presence prior to that. In her mind, her Kingdom and her family will almost certainly be in direct danger. There's nothing for her to go off of to face this challenge anything other than defensively, nothing to allow her the ability to take action preemptively.

She only has the hope that she can interfere before too much is lost. That she could mitigate the damage before it's unfixable. And given that, judging by what he's seen of Princess Cookie, her family shares these oh-so honorable and stubborn traits? She's likely pretty worried that the more headstrong of her kin will be casualties.

None of these worries hold weight, so long as her kin stay out of the garden, but she doesn't know that.

Frankly, Shadow Milk looks forward to seeing Eternal Sugar's attempt, and he's getting quite impatient for it. His newfound friendship with Pure Vanilla doesn't erase the fact that the other Beasts have their own goals and wants, and Shadow Milk may have… some thinking to do on where his priorities lay now, but Hollyberry is not among his concerns.

He does expect for Eternal Sugar to favor her, but whatever that means is yet to be seen. Look what Shadow Milk's interest had ended up doing to Pure Vanilla, for example. There is little difference between broken and dead, ultimately. Even he could admit that if there's a Beast who could manage what he was attempting, it would be the one who understands emotions best. As knowledgeable as he is, he's not fool enough to think Eternal Sugar was not better with feelings than he was.

Still. It grates on him, the brief flashes of worry Hollyberry gets when Princess Cookie dives out of sight for longer than two seconds, carefully masked with her enthusiastic grins when she realises she's being watched. It's a familiar mask, one of a protector who wants her charges to feel at ease. A caregiver who won't let her feelings stall her work. Wishing more than anything to keep them happy, terrified of how fleeting it may be, how easily it all comes crumbling down.

Shadow Milk keeps the brewing thoughts to himself, the striking familiarity jabbing deep into his heart where it ought not to reach, until they reach the castle grounds. They're brought inside, Shadow Milk welcomed as an honoured guest only thanks to Hollyberry's friendly arm, where Hollyberry leads him to a sunroom. A handful of servants follow, carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres, a couple of glasses, and a large pitcher of juice, but thankfully they don't stay once the trays are set down.

The light blaring through the ridiculously large windows is annoying, but the extra soft cushions of the chaise lounge Shadow Milk is offered for seating more than makes up for it. Besides that, it takes no time at all for Hollyberry to set him up with a glass of wine from a bottle she'd pulled out of a secret compartment hidden in the coffee table, so he'd admit it's not a bad position to have stuck himself in. Off his feet and able to rest his aching legs, with a sweet wine aged to perfection in his glass, it's almost possible to forget that he found Hollyberry incredibly difficult to tolerate.

“Comfortable?” Hollyberry asks, and Shadow Milk responds to that with a quiet nod and a generous sip of his wine. Drinking so early in the day is perhaps a bit odd, but he won't pass up the opportunity. Especially with a drink as fine as this one; besides that, it gives him ample time to think through his answers. And it's clear she's going to ask questions. “Good. Let me know if you need anything, ice or a hot bottle, whatever helps.”

“Thank you,” Shadow Milk says with a brief smile, before letting his brow furrow in concern. “But, I was wanting to ask, what has you so jumpy today?” He knows, he's assumed. Still, a confirmation may give him the answers to a question he's been musing on.

If Eternal Sugar isn't going to make her own move, if she won't leave her garden to do it, he could, perhaps… give Hollyberry a little nudge, in the right direction. It would not be the first time he's scattered a few crumbs towards the garden, though it would likely be the first truly intentional time. He's sure Eternal Sugar wouldn't mind an interference like that, and it's boring waiting for whatever she was planning on doing. She's not particularly great at baiting cookies from a distance, really, her little pitcher plant of an operation relies pretty much on luck alone. Or cookies fleeing eastward as the westernmost beasts ransack the landscape… huh. Guess she hasn't needed to draw them in herself before.

“Nothing you need to worry about, you aren't living in the Kingdom, so you shouldn't be affected… then again, it's not just my kingdom at risk…” Hollyberry starts, voice just as powerfully cheery as always, up until she trails off. She frowns to herself, brow furrowed slightly, before she shakes her head. “No, you'll be fine. I'm certain. I'll make sure of it.”

Shadow Milk doesn't suppose she's talking about only him, but rather the Kingdom as a whole. Maybe even the entirety of Earthbread. She seems the type to carry the world on her shoulders, but that seems a shared trait in all of Nilly's silly friends. He doesn't respond immediately, taking another sip of his drink. A silent cue to continue, which aware or not she takes perfectly on time.

“I'm just not sure when it'll happen,” She adds, frustration clipping her words. “I can't stand the waiting! If I had any idea where to go or who to face, then I could face it head-on, whatever it is!” So, he's right. A woman of action, of course, would not take well to the drag waiting often is.

So really, he's doing her a favor. “I'm sure you'll have your opportunity soon,” he says. He lifts his glass back to his lips once again, though this time it's to hide the twitch of his lips as a little blueberry bird alights on the sill of a window, gently tapping its beak against the glass. He turns to look at it with a measured frown, confusion as he lifts his hand to cover his lips in faux surprise. “Oh, what's that?”

Hollyberry is already crossing the room to meet it, of course. With a careful push the window opens, and the scruffy little thing twitters and trills as it hops inside, dropping a rolled up parchment tied with pretty blue ribbon. Hollyberry takes up the note and with one hand unfurls it as she scratches the bird's head with the other. The bird coos and leans into the touch, tilting its head so her finger scritches its cheek, beak rubbing against her palm. It's undoubtedly a good show of it, right? Unquestionably a bird, doing bird things. Natural!

The weight on Hollyberry's shoulders lifts, as she reads through the letter. Her grin when she finally drops it is eager, excited and adventurous. “Well, I suppose you were quite right, Swirl!” Hollyberry declares, before turning back to the bird. Presumably to ask for its services for a return letter. Ah, but what a shame! It flutters off, before she could even get a word in, and her attempts to call it back fail.

“Good news?” Shadow Milk asks, as Hollyberry closes the window once again.

“Just the news I had been waiting for!” Hollyberry responds brightly, making her way to an old armchair placed across the coffee table opposite Shadow Milk's own seat. The chair creaks as she sits, and she takes up the wine bottle to pour herself a glass, leaving the juice pitcher they'd been brought to sit and grow warm. “Funny, how these things work. Just as you asked about it! You sure you're not a prophet?”

“I'm happy for you,” Shadow Milk smiles, laughing lightly as he shakes his head. “And, yes, I am quite certain I'm no prophet.”

“But you certainly are not just an ordinary housemaid,” Hollyberry asserts. She grins, tinged with something more exacting than exuberance. It's not knowing, no, but sharp in a similar manner.

Shadow Milk smiles, a touch sardonically. There's the questions he was expecting. “My wards would say much the same. Though, not out of suspicion,” he offers. “Whatever gave you the idea that there was more to it than that?”

“The way you carry yourself, when no one is watching.” Hollyberry tips her glass, the only thing saving her from spilling its contents the fact that she's clearly quite used to gesturing with drink in hand. “You are quite the intelligent cookie, aren't you? And sure of your skills, for someone who looks like a brisk breeze could knock them over.” Hollyberry takes a decent gulp from her drink and then points a single finger his way. “You know magic, don't you?”

“How on Earthbread did you come to that conclusion?” Shadow Milk asks, giggling as if it was bizarre to even suggest.

“That isn't a denial.” Hollyberry responds easily, chair creaking as she leans forward just slightly. Eager for answers, clearly. “So, I'll ask again, what's your story?”

Shadow Milk hums, taking another long sip from his glass as he collects his thoughts. The prepared lie of a housemaid caring for the abandoned children of a distant foreign nobleman won't quite work if Hollyberry is already skeptical. Not without even more questioning, and his practiced nonanswers won't work in the face of scrutiny. Besides that, it's not what she’s asking for. Even if he shares it, she'll only badger on about the “real” story, the truth of Yogurt Swirl prior to her work here. And he'd been so pleased by the drama of such a story, too. A shame.

There's nothing else for it but to improvise. Start simple, perhaps. A truth, in a lie. “I used to know magic,” he starts. Shaking his head with a small, unamused snort, he continues, “or, rather, I know it. I no longer use it, nor do I study it.”

“How come?” Hollyberry prods. “If there was ever a time to make use of it, it would be now.”

“The same reason my friend doesn't leave her garden, nowadays.” Shadow Milk's smile curdles at the edges, something bitter seeping into his tone. “Bad memories, really. I'd rather not get into it. I am content to forget it all and spend the rest of my days as an ordinary cookie,” laughable even as a lie, but Hollyberry doesn't need to know, “or at least, as ordinary as I can manage.”

“I see,” Hollyberry responds, tone quiet and thoughtful from the power of his words alone. Or maybe, more likely, because it's a mindset similar to one Pure Vanilla once had himself. Shadow Milk can admit the old fool gives him a fair amount of inspiration, Healer Cookie is a good model to spin off on for this. “How much does Pure Vanilla know of this?”

“Not too much more than that.” Shadow Milk shrugs at the half truth quite easily. “He's a nosy fellow, but he knows when not to press at the least. He knows more about my present than my past, and that's… tolerable. Not ideal, but…” He shrugs a second time, a what can you do? “Better than the other way around.”

“So he knows of your thieving here?” Hollyberry asks. Shadow Milk isn't quite surprised by the accusation, but he pauses regardless. Hollyberry winks exaggeratedly, smile sharp. “The other reason I suspected you knew magic, you know. It's pretty easy to disappear small items, and it's impossible to miss that the amount of reported thefts has spiked with every visit you and your kids have made.”

“If you're so certain, why not arrest me?” Shadow Milk asks, lightly shaking his nearly empty glass. “Why welcome me as a guest, and drink with me? Unless this is simply a remarkably strange way to interrogate me.”

“PV asked me to look out for you, for one. I trust his judgement. For another, you've only been taking food. I won't allow the arrest of a woman for only trying to feed her kids, I know I'd have done the same if I had no other choice.” Hollyberry nods, firm and resolute. Honest.

Shadow Milk narrows his eyes. “Pure Vanilla doesn't know what I do on my own time.” He says, which isn't a denial or a confirmation. Simply a statement. “But it's not like he's clueless. He's aware of our circumstances and he knows I don't care to keep squeaky clean morals. I'd be surprised if he wasn't suspecting it.”

“Do you think that's why he asked me to keep an eye on you?” Hollyberry asks. That phrasing, only very slightly different from what she's been saying before. Entirely different meaning, however.

“At the time he didn't know the extent of it, but he knew I was struggling. He likely wanted me to have more support,” Shadow Milk responds easily. “But if he were smart, and he's not an entire fool, then it would have been a warning as well.”

“But you don't think so,” Hollyberry asserts, to which Shadow Milk shrugs once more. “You believe he trusts you, but you think he shouldn't?”

“I believe that, at the time he told you to watch for me, we were not friends. Quite the opposite, actually.” Shadow Milk taps his glass idly, empty now. Hollyberry offers to refill it, and he lets her. “Not that he wanted it to be that way. He's quite stubborn, you know. All of you are, in your own ways.” Shadow Milk tilts his head back, resting on the back of the lounge. “But I suppose he won in the end, didn't he?”

“You don't seem too happy about that.” Shadow Milk blithely waves a hand as he takes another long sip. “How did you two meet in the first place?”

“This is an interrogation, isn't it?” Shadow Milk chuckles, angling a crooked smile at Hollyberry. “Didn't Nilly tell you anything?”

“He told me I could ask you. Though he warned me not to expect answers, either.” Hollyberry shakes her head with a frustrated sigh. He lets her sit on that for a moment, lets the silence confirm what she already knows.

There's a fraction of appreciation curled in Shadow Milk's heart for dear Nilly's consideration, letting him have the floor to pick the lie that suits him best. He'll lend some consideration in turn, then. For the truth was oh-so precious to dear Nilly, Shadow Milk will refrain. Just this once. If she ever asks again, then he'll have his fun.

“It is a sensitive topic.” Shadow Milk hums, drawing Hollyberry's attention back to him. “And I won't talk about it, if you were wondering. That's for my own sake.” He grins. “But I'll give you a chance to guess yourself, if you want to make a game of it. Perhaps…” Shadow Milk tilts his head, tapping on his glass as he thinks. “Take a drink for every wrong guess? Though, I can guarantee you'd drink a lot.”

Hollyberry stares at him for a moment, blinking dumbly, before snapping back to herself with a snort. “You know, somehow I thought you were going to be a bit of a proper lady, the kind that's above a good drinking game or two, but I'm glad I'm wrong!” Hollyberry finishes her little chuckle fit and grins. “Or how about, questions and answers? We each get a turn to ask a question, and if we refuse to answer it we take a drink. You get something out of it, too.”

Hardly. But, he will admit, she's a bit of a strange one. Asking her if she's got even a lick of sense in her brain has been on his mind since they'd first met properly. “Good enough for me,” Shadow Milk raises his glass with a smile, and Hollyberry clinks hers against it.

What ensues is a game where Shadow Milk loses, by a significant margin, because he's not currently playing on an even field. Had he not been Yogurt Swirl Cookie at the moment, he likely still would have passed on most of the questions, but he would definitely have spared himself a few gulps. Hollyberry has him switch to juice by the end, even though he's not yet reached the limits of his tolerance. The world is only lightly fuzzy at its edges. He still has all his faculties about him. Though, his sense of time is a tad off, now.

He'd arrived at the Hollyberry Kingdom just before lunch, spent some time gossiping, and then spent even more time drinking with Hollyberry. It feels like he's hardly spent an hour here, but the logic does not follow. Not that he really cares much. This, the beverage in hand as he laughs along at the dumbest joke he's heard, the plush cushions cradling his aches and pains to set him at ease, the flurry of pink in the chair across from him? It aches with familiarity.

The game has ended, but they still chat most pleasantly. Shadow Milk catches himself nearly bringing up Sugar a few times, either a recollection of time spent with her in the past or just mentioning her present incarnation, but he doesn't slip that far. It's been well past time he should go home for some time, Black Sapphire and Candy Apple will most certainly be questioning him when he returns, but by the time he realises that he's already far too busy weaving a bracelet to just get up and leave.

It's an idle task to do with his hands, as Hollyberry boisterously recounts an adventure from her past. It's something he hasn't heard before, so it's actually interesting to listen to, and she has good experience with storytelling. It's hard to get the gravitas emphasized to the right degree and not lose yourself in the details, but she's not too bad at it. He'd asked for string before she started, and now that she was about halfway through it the bracelet was nearly completed. It's a very simple thing, it couldn't be too complicated, but it won't snap easily.

It's also seeping with magic, woven in with the fibers and making it weighty with power. It's nothing much, spell wise. A few simple protection charms, a curse repellant. It likely doesn't have the power to do anything to keep Eternal Sugar at bay, but she'll recognize his signature. Even weak as he is, there's power in a good bluff. She'll have his head if he interferes with Hollyberry, but…

Shadow Milk turns the bracelet over in his hands a couple times, watching as the pink threads shimmer with iridescence. Hollyberry doesn't lose any wind, as she tells her story, but she notices she's losing her audience. She pauses, just long enough for Shadow Milk to toss it to her.

“Give that to your granddaughter,” he mutters. “I'm not in practice, so it might not be the strongest protection charm I've ever made, but it'll give you some peace of mind regardless.” There's not a high chance the Princess tags along, in fact he'd not be surprised if this is one adventure dear Hollyberry would deny her with firm conviction, but she's still reckless and adventurous like her dear granny. It'd be best to be prepared for even the lowest probability, and the bracelet will likely work against anything that isn't a Beast.

Hollyberry will have one less cookie to worry about protecting. Shadow Milk already has it covered.

Hollyberry clutches the bracelet to her chest with wide eyes, almost shocked Shadow Milk was offering it, but when she looks down at the shimmering thing and then back at Shadow Milk her grin is as genuine as it can be. “I thought you didn't do magic?”

Shadow Milk shrugs, closing his eyes. “If your granddaughter is anything like you, I figured the kid deserves some help with that.” He opens one eye, just to level a pointed glare at Hollyberry. “Don't mention it. Literally. This was a one time thing.”

Hollyberry mimes locking her mouth shut and tossing away the key, clutching the bracelet just a little bit tighter. She lets in a shaky breath, lets out a smoother one, and then jumps straight back into her story, right where she left off. The tension in Shadow Milk's frame fades, and he leans back in his seat to listen more intently.

When he closes his eyes, he can almost hear her fluttering feathers.

Chapter Text

He manages to squeeze out of becoming a dinner guest by the skin of his teeth, saying that because he left Grape Pip and Apple Seed alone that he needed to go as soon as he could. Any answers for why he was even in the Kingdom are left unsaid, and unasked for, really. Hollyberry has agreed to tolerate his mumness, even if she hasn't said as much. The fact that Princess Cookie waves goodbye from a balcony with Hollyberry at her shoulder, bracelet around her wrist twinkling in the dimming light of dusk, speaks for itself.

It's a little foolish of her, he'd call her too trusting if all that hadn't been proof of the opposite. Though, perhaps she toes the line on that front. When departing he tells her that Yogurt Swirl isn't even his real name, just to test her reaction (although admittedly it's likely more because he's just a smidge tipsy), and the only thing she said to that? “I hope I'll get to learn your real one soon, then!” Ridiculous. Humorous. Fun, though.

He makes a quick stop before home, too, just as a courtesy. He's not really intent on staying long but short visits aren't what her lovely garden is for. She finds him to be quite the irritant, though, and he tends to ruin her carefully crafted peace if allowed to linger, so he's allowed to say his piece and take his leave. It takes quite some time, though, as it always does. It's already dark by the time he finally steps into the spire. Thankfully, that means he's weaned off the effects of drinking by then. For the most part, anyhow.

Getting home late means fielding questions from his minions, which is easier when his mind isn't drifting to fuzzy recollections of a friend who for all intents and purposes doesn't exist anymore. It also means cooking a late dinner with Black Sapphire's help, because that's become a new routine now, too. Ever since Shadow Milk's brief “vacation” in his room, and the wall being blown to smithereens, he's decided to take charge of mealtimes entirely. For no particular reason, of course.

Black Sapphire has been volunteering to help with their meals and doesn't ever take no for an answer, which always ends up a ploy to interrogate Shadow Milk about his day and his dreams. But one question of how Black Sapphire is doing with his search in the Faerie Kingdom shuts him up pretty swiftly, and Candy Apple doesn't know how to prod and pry to lead Shadow Milk into answering questions like he does.

He doesn't hide his visit to the Hollyberry Kingdom from them, not its entirety in any case, but he waits until the food is made and on the table because he knows they won't receive it well. And they don't, but Black Sapphire isn't as pushy as he usually is and Candy Apple switches up into interviewing him instead once she notices. Black Sapphire is only half as skilled at dodging questions and giving nonanswers as Shadow Milk is, and so it's entertaining enough to join her with his own leading questions and watch his dear Sapphy struggle not to give his secrets away.

It's an affair that takes quite a bit of time, between cooking and eating and getting caught up with events. Shadow Milk makes sure to send them to their rooms, Black Sapphire in particular has been uppity about the newly existent curfew Shadow Milk has quietly started applying, and only once he is sure that they actually went to sleep does he return to his room to curl up in his own bed.

This is all relevant, because when Shadow Milk falls asleep, it becomes clear that Pure Vanilla has already been asleep for quite some time. It is also clear that this is not a particularly good thing.

Shadow Milk opens his eyes, and for a second he's convinced he hasn't. That's red flag number one. Red flag number two is the sickeningly sweet smell of stale jam, familiar and terrible and thick. The final red flag is the steaming, gaping hole in his own chest, jam seeping out even as it starts to seal itself. His clothes and hands are stained, tacky. The jam on them is old, not the fresh outpouring from his own wound.

He slowly sits up, peeling himself out of his own puddle, feeling the change in position make the jam flow hasten. He presses a hand to the wound, harsh and uncaring of the searing pain the touch causes, to stem the flow as his breath quickens. To wake up in the dark, mortally wounded, unaware of what happened is nightmarish. But if he is aware of his dreaming state, it's not his nightmare.

He hears a noise. It's not a quiet one; the sound is harsh, crashing over the static filling his ears, though it's initially unrecognizable. He follows it, whips his head around to see a sobbing cookie, collapsed onto the ground and clutching his arms to hug himself like he's all he has left. His staff lies out of his reach, almost as if it had been tossed carelessly away, the light of its center out, and his own ever-present glow is gone.

Pure Vanilla cookie falls apart, and Shadow Milk sits in a pool of his own jam simply watching him. For a moment it feels like that's all he can do– but then Pure Vanilla takes in a heaving gasp, and wails, and Shadow Milk can move again. A wound in a dream is hardly restricting, after all, when he remembers that that is all it is.

“Hey, hey, Nils, it's okay, it's okay, could you look at me, doll?” Shadow Milk stammers, he stammers, as he quickly hovers over Pure Vanilla's hunched form. He twists in the air, trying to get a look at Pure Vanilla's face, but he can't manage it until he's low enough to touch the ground. By that point he lets himself fall back under the leash of gravity, kneeling in front of Pure Vanilla and craning to catch his eyes. Even though Pure Vanilla wouldn't be able to see him, not in this dark through tears with his already significant blindness, he's pretty sure it might at least draw his attention.

“Nilly, my silly Nilly, talk to me, please–” Shadow Milk grabs either side of Pure Vanilla's face, grin flickering weakly to life before falling once again because Pure Vanilla struggles. Pure Vanilla's hands latch onto his wrists and he pants as he rips him off, and then scrambles back with a terrified expression. Shadow Milk raises his hands, stills himself. “Okay, okay, okay,” he says, “I won't–” He cuts himself off, because Pure Vanilla lets out a hiccupy breath and more tears flow down his face unimpeded.

Shadow Milk isn't one for comforts, and doesn't know what to do especially when the one in dire need is Pure Vanilla. He's intelligent, but that's never been extended to emotional sensitivity. There's good reason he relied on Caster Sugar so much. As Pure Vanilla shudders and weeps, curling in on himself once again, Shadow Milk scrambles in his memories for anything.

The smell of jam is thick and foul, clogging the air and making it hard to think. It doesn't help that his own panic was compounding the terror already floating in the air, the weight of emotion pressing down like gravity times ten. But it at least gives him an idea on what to start with.

It takes a bit more effort, and a bit of intrusive digging, to draw the memory out. It helps that Pure Vanilla visits his garden so often, or else Shadow Milk would have to go about this much slower. To impose the garden over this nightmare is ambitious, but he's not really trying to just cloak the dream. The hope, the true idea, is that Pure Vanilla will take the illusion he makes and accept the scene's transition.

He can't do much more than suggest, can only bring memory to the surface and only temporarily at that, but it's a start. Pure Vanilla loves his garden. He'll take it– he's certain.

The darkness of the nightmare slowly, slowly, as Shadow Milk drags the memory of the garden to the surface, ebbs away. Holding the memory in place is difficult, but he manages to drown the stench of jam with the more soothing aroma of vanilla orchids in bloom, and draws false warmth from the echo of sunlight. He keeps up the illusion for two, three seconds before he can sense the shift. Pure Vanilla takes the idea readily, and the illusion becomes solid under his fingers. Shadow Milk can feel the petals rub against his side, and the dirt under his fingers, and when he opens his eyes it's with relief.

Pure Vanilla is still a crumpled, sobbing heap, but he's in a patch of the flowers he loves. That has to be better than just the darkness. By the slow way his breathing gets more even, each shuddering breath following the last, it must be. Shadow Milk makes his approach again, but doesn't reach for him. He's learned.

Except, apparently, he hasn't, because the moment he gets within arms length Pure Vanilla latches onto him with a strength Shadow Milk didn't know he possessed. Pure Vanilla's tears soak his shoulder and his fingers dig into his back, and Shadow Milk can feel each stuttered breath and the pounding of Pure Vanilla's heart. He sits, stunned for a moment, just staring into the flowers surrounding them until he gains the sense to, slowly, wrap his arms around Pure Vanilla in turn.

Some of the tension in Pure Vanilla's frame eases, once he does so. Shadow Milk doesn't say a word, doesn't know what to say, and simply slowly, haltingly, begins to rub circles over Pure Vanilla's back. This works remarkably well to soothe the both of them, thankfully. Slowly, the weight of the dream eases. Not entirely, but enough.

Pure Vanilla sniffles. “It was a dream.” he manages to say, muffled where his face pressed into Shadow Milk's collarbone. “No one is hurt, everyone is safe…” he adds in a low murmur, a statement made to reassure himself more than anything.

It sends a pang through Shadow Milk's chest, then, as he realises exactly what fear tonight had played against them. Pure Vanilla has a guilt for every small mistake he has ever made, he's practically baked from it, but worse is the fear of what those mistakes could have led to. His friends, crumbled and seeping jam, hurt by the myriad of foes Pure Vanilla blames himself for the existence of. Dead, because he wasn't there. The healer fails his role, and causes their doom.

The monsters of this dream are gone, but Shadow Milk can hazard a guess. Dark Enchantress, for one, but it's not unlikely the fool blames himself for the escape of the Beasts, at least in part. Stupid of him. They'd been working at their chains for longer than he's even existed. Their escape was an inevitability, and he could not have prevented it even if he had given his life for it. It brings to question, though, if the Beasts were involved… was Shadow Milk one of the monsters of this dream, or one of the victims? A wound is not sufficient evidence for either.

None of that speculation helps, in this matter. The only thing it grants him is the answer as to what Pure Vanilla wants to hear, now. “Yep! They're all right as rain, in high spirits too!” Shadow Milk's voice rings with false cheer, confidence wrapped up in every word. “They're real tough, you know, hard to beat. You don't need to worry about them.”

Pure Vanilla takes in another shuddery breath, and sinks more of his weight into Shadow Milk. By now, Shadow Milk is the only one keeping them upright. “But–” he starts, only for Shadow Milk to cut him off.

“You'll be there when they need you. Right now, think about yourself.” It's a bit blunt, but Shadow Milk's playing by ear. He wishes he were Yogurt Swirl Cookie right now, or maybe Berry Cream Cookie, or any of the number of characters he's crafted that would be capable of handling this. But he can't, with Pure Vanilla clinging to him so tightly, and somehow it feels like the wrong thing. It would help more if he could feel what the right thing to do is. “It was a dream, a bad one, and it's over now. Don't give it more hold over you than it deserves. You know it was never real.”

Pure Vanilla hiccups, but doesn't argue any more. It's not as if Shadow Milk has said anything that would really help, but perhaps it clicked at least a little bit. Hard to say, with mister savior complex not really making more progress than the evening of his gulping breaths. He still clings just as tightly, his tears flow just as readily, but at least he can get some air in.

Shadow Milk can't think of more to say, so he lets the silence linger. He doesn't know exactly when he'd started to stroke the back of Pure Vanilla's head, when his fingers started to braid thin stands into his hair just to have something to do, but he does know when Pure Vanilla leans back into the touch with a soft sigh, that it's done him some good. He pulls back enough to look Pure Vanilla in the face, and while his eyes are red and puffy they're dry, for the most part. Shadow Milk offers him what he hopes is a reassuring grin, and receives a frail and quivering smile in response.

“Are you better now?” Shadow Milk asks, hands moving up to cradle Pure Vanilla's face and allow him to wipe the last bit of the wetness under his eyes with his thumbs. Pure Vanilla nods, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch with another shuddering sigh. His face is warm, splotchy in the aftermath of his weeping, but still just as beautiful as ever.

That's a dangerous thought to have with Pure Vanilla practically in his lap, so he casts it away with prejudice. He starts to pull his hands back, give Pure Vanilla his space to put himself back together, but before he can get very far Pure Vanilla gently takes hold of one of his hands and guides it back to his cheek. Shadow Milk is stuck, held in place by one hand, as the other falls to his side. He notices only a moment later that Pure Vanilla's fingertips rest right on his pulse point.

“I'm sorry,” Pure Vanilla murmurs, his voice catching with the roughness of his throat. “I was– it was–”

“You don't have to explain your nightmares to me, Nilly. I have a good enough idea of what happened already.” Shadow Milk responds, using his free hand to wrap around Pure Vanilla's waist. Pure Vanilla lets himself be tugged closer, though he was already quite close. Personal space is a foreign concept to the both of them, it seems. “Don't see what you're sorry for either.”

“You were hurt,” Pure Vanilla responds, voice quivering and almost too weak to hear. Shadow Milk glances down at his chest, which bears no mark of the nightmare. Not even the stains, which had also left his hands. When they arrived at the garden, they had arrived clean. A wound in a dream wouldn't have harmed him, and this one barely lasted any time at all.

“It was a dream, Nils.” Shadow Milk tilts his head, grin twitching a little wider as his eyes narrow. “I'm fine. Alive, unharmed, all that jazz. Had a pretty good day even! Visited Hollyberry Kingdom, played some games, taught Black Sapphire how to cook an old favorite of mine, a very very busy day.” Shadow Milk nods resolutely, feeling his grin ease into something a touch more genuine as Pure Vanilla slowly stops trembling.

“You're trying to distract me.” Pure Vanilla says, laughing under his breath. Shadow Milk squeezes his cheek, just a little bit.

“If I didn't you'd stew on that dream until you brought it back to the surface,” Shadow Milk responds, knocking their foreheads together. “It wasn't very entertaining for me, so. It's in my best interest to keep your mind elsewhere.”

Pure Vanilla blinks at him, slowly, smile fond. “Thank you,” he says, almost too quietly to hear. And then, he turns his head. Just slightly. To press his lips to Shadow Milk's palm, barely a brush, but in every intention a kiss nonetheless. He lets go of Shadow Milk's hand, after that, and buries his face in his shoulder.

It's a good thing he's not looking, because Shadow Milk just about combusts at the gesture. Pure Vanilla is very still, in his arms, breathing even and measured, shoulders still tensed as if expecting the nightmare to click back into gear at a moment's notice. Shadow Milk does his best to keep talking, just about his day and then small bits of Hollyberrian gossip that pop into his thoughts, just to have words for Pure Vanilla to think about instead of that dream. It takes a lot of willpower to keep his voice even, but he's a performer. He manages fine.

He doesn't really think it's working, though. Pure Vanilla is unsettled still, if anything just getting more tense by the second, fingers clenching the back of Shadow Milk's clothes and twitching tighter in minute increments, pressing his face into Shadow Milk's shoulder as if hiding there helped him any. His breathing stutters, even if he's definitely not crying or panicked anymore, it was clear he was still bothered by something.

Shadow Milk runs through his mind another list, because clearly the distraction of his melodious voice isn't helpful enough. Perhaps something more constructive. When Shadow Milk wants to distract himself he finds something to do, a game to play or a project to complete. Would that help here? What even would he– oh.

“You wanted to learn how to knit, didn't you?” Shadow Milk asks, even though he remembers it clearly. How could he not? That stupid figment of a scarf the dream conjured up was a searing reminder of the moment. Pure Vanilla startles, flinching back and away as if he hadn't expected to be addressed directly, which is a little silly given Shadow Milk's been talking to him the whole time.

His face is still flushed, though the puffiness around his eyes has settled some. He stares at Shadow Milk a bit blankly, eyes wide, but slowly starts to nod. “I did tell you that, didn't I? That was quite some time ago.”

Shadow Milk shrugs blithely, and Pure Vanilla abruptly realises he's still pressed up against him like a particularly sticky burr. With a half-aborted apology he lets go, and awkwardly scoots away a respectful distance. Shadow Milk doesn't let that bother him. Or at least he doesn't let it show. “Not that long ago, really. But, here's the big question, do you still want to learn?”

“Well, yes.” Pure Vanilla answers, turning his face away and covering his cheek with his hand, his flushed face getting worse. Does he finally realise how old that makes him sound, and he's got the sense to be embarrassed? Or, really, Shadow Milk supposes he has a good enough excuse. Pure Vanilla is an old man, so taking up an old cookie's hobby is just standard fare. “But I really don't have much time, everything is so busy–”

“You can learn in your dreams?” Shadow Milk grins, waving a hand to summon a pair of needles and a ball of shimmering blue yarn. Pure Vanilla may not be able to see them clearly, but it's a problem easily solved when Shadow Milk floats his staff back into his hands. With his vision restored, Pure Vanilla gasps. “You've likely heard already, I'm a cookie who knows everything? Knitting is a cinch. It's the first thing I learned to do when I started studying the fiber arts.”

Shadow Milk snaps his fingers to make a second set of needles and yarn appear, floating in the air before Pure Vanilla. He’ll leave it up to Pure Vanilla to figure out how to keep his vision while he holds the needles, can't be too charitable or silly Nilly is going to think he cares.

It works, though. Pure Vanilla is much too busy trying to loop the yarn around his needles evenly to think about his nightmare, and whatever's been bothering him flees in the wake of his curiosity. He's not very good at it; he can't manage to get the tension of each stitch right, his loops are either too tight and thus impossible to work with or too loose, but he doesn't get frustrated.

By the time the dream is coming to an end, Pure Vanilla is smiling again. So, clearly, Shadow Milk did something right. He's… glad.

He forgot to ask about Nilly's progress in their game, but it's not a big deal. If Pure Vanilla won already he'd have said something, and the only day's results Shadow Milk really needs to know is the thirds. Besides, it's not like Nilly has any real chance of winning.

Chapter Text

“The spell is remarkably low cost for something so complex!” Pure Vanilla doesn't wait for Shadow Milk to get his bearings the moment he appears, just barrels right on into the subject with his delightful bubbly excitement. Pure Vanilla doesn't hesitate to fill the chair Caster Sugar once used, the only pause in his momentum happening when he sinks far lower than he'd expected and startles slightly.

Shadow Milk blinks at him, still trying to recover from the dream prior to his arrival. It wasn't anything too interesting, just time with Bamboo Salt and Caster Sugar, planning an event for… whatever it was they had been planning at that time. He definitely doesn't remember now that Pure Vanilla has burst into Caster Sugar's old hosting room with all the grace of a newborn fawn.

Pure Vanilla's grin is bright, almost blindingly so, and he clutches his staff tightly even though his true eyes are wide open. For a cookie who tries to keep his reactions mostly subdued, he sure was radiant when he didn't bother restraining himself. But then Pure Vanilla's words finally process in his head, and Shadow Milk balks.

“You found the spell?” He asks, before shaking his head thoroughly. “Wait, no, you can't just claim to have found the right one! You need to prove it!” He sits up as best as he's able, but Caster Sugar's chairs weren't made for anything resembling proper sitting. He discovers there is such a thing as too fluffy.

Pure Vanilla covers his mouth with a hand as he giggles, his cheeks gaining a light flush just barely noticeable, and he closes his eyes. Presumably, to actually see Shadow Milk's ridiculous flailing in perfect clarity. Jerk. At least this is a much better state than he'd been in yesterday. He'd better be grateful that Shadow Milk still feels pity over it, because if he didn't he would soooo love to wipe that stupid little grin off his face!

“Should I just explain how the spell works, then? Would that suffice?” Pure Vanilla asks, tilting his head in that endearing manner of his, as he shifts to somehow adjust his position to sit gracefully in the overly plush chair. At Shadow Milk's careless wave of a hand, Pure Vanilla politely clears his throat. “So, it's less a dream sharing spell, and more a… temporarily linked mindspace, dependent on trigger phases determined by the caster. Its most common use is to create the mindspace among dreams, because that's most efficient and least costly, but there's also been the physical touch variant, the eye contact variant, and so on.”

“Seems familiar,” Shadow Milk hems and haws, rubbing his chin. Pure Vanilla shakes his head just slightly, letting out an amused little huff before plowing onwards.

“The spell, because of its nature as a shared mindspace, is typically more invasive than a standard dreamwalking spell. Using the dreamspace as a conduit limits the caster in exactly how far they can reach, but other variants have less blockages in the path to prevent access to memories and thoughts. It's a two-way street, however, as the spell is for creating a place to speak that can not easily be detected or invaded by outsiders wishing to overhear the conversation of the users.” Pure Vanilla pauses, briefly, opening his eyes as he leans back on one hand, staring at what little he could see of the ceiling above. “Which is why it gets rid of figments of cookies not actually present in the dream; if another cookie were to show up uninvited, they'd have no means to hide among the figments if there weren't any. Quite clever, really, simple and effective. Ah, holding long-distance conversations and secret keeping are the two primary use cases, which is why this facet is important.” Pure Vanilla hums thoughtfully, raising a finger to tap his chin before jerking upright to point it at the ceiling. “Oh! And, again, it's really stunningly low cost for how much it does and the allowances it has, as it's a one-cast spell that remains operational until it's dismissed so long as you have the energy to keep it. Which isn't a problem if you rely on the dreamscape as a conduit, as it'll power itself for the most part, given the nature of dreams. Also, because it's a direct line, you avoid the trouble most standard dreamwalking spells have by bypassing the dreamscape's railways entirely.”

Shadow Milk hems and haws some more, just for show. It’s pretty obvious by now that he’s lost this game, even if he hadn’t a clue how. Pure Vanilla has got it in one, but Shadow Milk isn't entirely happy with that. Mostly because he doesn't know what Pure Vanilla wants for his prize, and that's about as foreboding as something could get. However, games are no fun if you don't follow through, so despite his reputation as a liar…

Shadow Milk slumps forward in his seat, narrowing his eyes at Pure Vanilla with a tired frown. “Okay, okay, Nils. You win. What do you want for your wonderful prize?” He hopes it isn’t something dull, or inane, or tiring, or just generally unpleasant to grant. But, he knows Nilly. Of course it’s going to be all of those things.

“Ten honest answers.” Pure Vanilla responds quickly, almost too quickly, all in one breath. “I want to ask ten questions, and get ten true, honest answers. No misdirection. No half-truths. No lies.”

See? He’d just said. Dull, inane, tiring, and generally unpleasant.

“That's a big ask, doll,” Shadow Milk responds slowly, crossing his arms as he sinks back into the comfort of a too-plush chair. “I'll do one, maybe two.”

“Five? Please?” Pure Vanilla asks, with those baleful doe-eyes that remain just a bit too much for Shadow Milk to withstand. He feels his will turn to putty and stamps down the feeling harshly, covering it by rolling his eyes and groaning.

“Fine, fine. Five answers, exactly. That means five questions, and yes, asking for clarification will count.” And, at Pure Vanilla's too-bright smile, he rolls his eyes. “I'll mean every word.” He adds in a grumble. It's better than ten, but still a big ask. He's tended to answer a lot more questions a lot more honestly than he's intended lately, but that doesn't mean he likes it. Quite the opposite, rather. They've all been mostly benign, which makes it only marginally less annoying, but if Nilly wants a guaranteed honest answer then duh it's gonna be something he doesn't want to answer. But fair’s fair, right? He won the game, he gets the prize. That’s how it works. Even if he picked an objectively stupid prize. “Start asking.”

Pure Vanilla does not even take a second once he’s given his cue.

“Do you still intend to take my Soul Jam?” Pure Vanilla asks, for his first question. Shadow Milk's nose scrunches up and he groans again, head rolling back.

“Haven't thought about it, but probably not.” He responds, shifting awkwardly lower in his chair as he flaps his hand in a dismissive, wishy-washy gesture. He lets his hand flop back onto his chest limply, with little fanfare. He couldn't see Pure Vanilla from the angle he was now sitting, half off the chair with his head now resting on the seat, but that was probably a good thing. Imagining the smile he'd have is just sickening. “Not worth the effort at this point, right? Besides, we're supposedly friends now. It would be rude.”

He really hasn't thought about it, though. He should. He really should take back what's rightfully his, but if he's supposed to be honest then he doesn't really care anymore. The, urgh, this will hurt to even think, the better prize of that game was always going to be Pure Vanilla. Taking the Soul Jam back will just pit him against Pure Vanilla again, and when he's already got the better prize, why bother for second place? But he doesn't have to say that much, Pure Vanilla didn't ask for it.

“Do you intend on helping any of the other Beasts in their endeavors to take my friends’ Soul Jams?” Another boring, dull question. Shadow Milk scoffs.

“Of course not, that's none of my business.” Shadow Milk flaps a hand in the air dismissively once again, though with more force this time. He could probably sit up properly by now, would be a good idea. It is quite frustrating that even in dreams he aches. “Besides, they'd get veeeery mad if I interrupted their fun! I'm already going to be bothering madame buggy I'm pretty sure, and I've barely just talked to Hollyberry. If I tried to do anything they'd take it as an insult at best.” Sending Hollyberry to the garden doesn’t count, really. It’s as much a boon to her as to Sugar, given the worry lines she was giving herself panicking about what the Beast of Sloth may do. Ultimately all he did was hasten the plot, he doesn’t consider it helping. Sugar doesn’t either, else he’d have been greeted a lot more warmly during his past visit.

Pure Vanilla is quiet for a moment, likely trying to figure out whether he wants to waste a question on getting elaboration for that, or if he wants to ask his next question. Maybe he is going through whatever ten questions he'd originally had, figuring out which ones were most important. Clearly, he's got a theme.

Clever, though. Using the prize to determine exactly how many teeth Shadow Milk may still have. There certainly wasn't any way Shadow Milk would have admitted to such things without it. Friendship or no, Shadow Milk has an image he has to upkeep.

He floats up into the air, readjusting to watch Pure Vanilla with his feet kicking up in the air behind himself and head held up in his palms. Pure Vanilla has his eyes closed again, head tilted and lips pressed thin as he curls a lock of his hair with a finger idly. A new habit, presumably. It's cute– though, that's just an observation, meaningless. Doesn't matter. Strike it from the record.

“Do you intend on assisting Dark Enchantress in her goals, still?” Pure Vanilla asks his third question, unwinding his finger from his hair and settling his hands in his lap. It's barely noticeable, but there's a slight tension there.

“Haven't thought about that either. I don't think so, but don't mistake that for a change of heart or any silly idea like that.” Pure Vanilla turns his head his way, to show that he's listening closely. Most of his tension has melted away, now. “I just think, if she were to hear news of our dear friendship, I would be a very stupid cookie to be anywhere near her reach for the fallout of that.”

A shame, really. He was quite curious to see if that little Ultimate Cookie scheme would bear fruit, but he'd rather cut his losses before the losers cut him. He's not in any state to defend himself properly; despite all of his certainty that recovery was just right around the corner, he's seen no sign that his power was returning. On the contrary, he's only felt proof of the opposite. It truly annoys him, a feeling that reaches deep into his core and threatens to crush his lungs if he lets it, but it's not as if it ultimately changes things significantly.

Though he never was going to tell Nilly such a thing, it was always going to come down to a who-betrays-who first matter. Shadow Milk just happened to play his hand slightly differently in that regard. It's a bit of a waste of a good setup, to end that game so dully, but he's sure the other Beasts understand the playbook just fine enough. He may have taken his final bow after an underwhelming exit stage left, rather than the climactic scene he'd originally plotted, but they're still key actors. They'll likely make a good scene of it even without his careful direction. After all, the Beasts couldn't even agree with each other on how to apply their wills to the world, why would they ever let that old hag do as she liked? They may align with her on some goals, but where they differ it's a wide gap.

“What are you planning on doing, if working alongside Dark Enchantress Cookie is no longer viable?” Pure Vanilla doesn't pause to think this time, likely because this is the obvious follow up. Shadow Milk has got to hand it to him. Predictable as each question is, they're good choices. Boring, but of course Shadow Milk didn't expect this to be fun. He expected it to be a lot worse, actually. Something more touchy-feely. This is tolerable.

“I'm playing it by ear. With the Spire out of sorts and my minions on sabbatical there's not much to do. I'll wait for her to either crush you all or destroy herself in the process, and then who knows!” Shadow Milk grins, twisting to hang upside down, eyes narrowed as he splays his fingers out jazzily. “Maybe I'll be content with the wreckage she brings, maybe I won't. Definitely won't leave the world in whatever hands they end up in, us Beasts like things a particular way, after all.”

Pure Vanilla hums, raising a hand to his chin thoughtfully. Shadow Milk watches him, sinking down into his chair once again, though this time he's sitting in it with his head dangling off the seat and his legs hooked over the back. It's surprisingly comfortable that way. Maybe he's been sitting in them wrong this whole time, and this was how they were truly meant to be enjoyed. Would be characteristic of Caster Sugar, she liked her silly unconventionalities on some occasions. Her home had always been more a joke than a place to actually live anyhow, she's always preferred her garden.

“What would it take to get you to agree to work with our side?” Pure Vanilla asks, breaking Shadow Milk's train of thought rather cleanly. For a moment, Shadow Milk just stares, eyes wide and grin awkwardly stiff, before he sits up and turns to properly face Pure Vanilla.

“You're aware that's your last question?” Shadow Milk says, brow raising as his grin falls. Pure Vanilla nods, slow but sure. “You're really sure that's what you want to use your last question on?” He thought he's made it pretty clear by now that he doesn't want to be involved, especially if he gets in the way of the other Beasts. There's no side he's on but theirs, even if his time center stage is over. He's pretty sure there's nothing Pure Vanilla can give him to convince him to change that, even if he were to suddenly one-eighty and declare his undying devotion to Shadow Milk and offer up his Soul Jam.

“I'm certain. I would not fault you if you were to refuse wholesale, but if there was a chance…” Pure Vanilla trails off, turning his head away slightly as he raises his hand to his mouth for just a moment. “Perhaps not even facing Dark Enchantress Cookie alongside us. Perhaps convincing the other Beasts to sit out the conflict with you, so we only need worry about her forces alone… that would be a boon.”

Shadow Milk taps his fingers against the arm of the chair, watching Pure Vanilla for any cues. He's tense again, worried that this ask is too much. But, honest answers. This is the final one. And if all they need of him is to convince the other Beasts to stand down… hm. Actually…

Shadow Milk grins.

“You won't like it.” He starts, teasing and nearly sing-song in tone. “Neither would your friends, you know~”

“They wouldn't particularly like that I dream with you, either,” Pure Vanilla responds. “Nor would they like… other things… pertaining to you…” He adds softer, as an aside Shadow Milk likely wasn't meant to hear given how he turns his head away with a light flush. Is he trying to spare Shadow Milk's feelings? He's not under any impression that the other ancients would be any fans of his for any reason. He's got an unpleasant disposition, it's inevitable he meets critics. It's sweet, though, that Pure Vanilla feels the need to try.

“Oh, sure, but this is an impossible request! They'd never agree to it.” Shadow Milk waves dismissively. Pure Vanilla leans closer in anticipation.

“We can't say that until I know what it is.” He says, with a flicker of a smile. Shadow Milk holds back a snort, but he's sure his amusement shows in his expression. He lets the moment stall, gives Pure Vanilla's dread and hope room to grow in the silence, and then, only when it looks like Pure Vanilla is going to rescind his question, he speaks.

“No more tree.” Shadow Milk says, leaning back as he splays his fingers out in a mime of an explosion. “Not for me, and not for any of the other Beasts either. You want me to ask them to sit out this war? Then we can't be sealed away at the end of it.” He crosses his arms, nodding firmly to himself as he bares a vicious grin Nilly's way.

Like he said. Impossible ask. He can take a break but the other Beasts certainly won't. Eternal Sugar wants to spread her brand of happiness, Mystic Flour and Burning Spice the endings only they can bring. Silent Salt wants whatever they want, too, though they haven't been super vocal on that front (go figure). Convincing one of them to sit out the most entertaining thing to happen to any of them in centuries is just not likely, not an entirely futile task but a damn near one. They won't just listen to Shadow Milk just because he's one of them, ostensibly still their friend even if none of them are particularly good at being friends. They need to get something out of it. A please and thank you means exactly zilch.

The chances of being sealed in that tree again are high enough to be a concern eventually, even if not presently, and the complete eradication of that threat would be a decent starting point to work from. It wouldn't be the only thing he would have to offer, but it would open them up to the idea in the first place. But that's only if it's even on the table. He's the best liar known to cookie-kind, he takes great pride in that title, but even he couldn't really believe in the ancients letting the biggest threat to their existence roam free. If it's not true, he can't use it. And it won't be true, because, again, none of the ancients are dumb enough to let the biggest threats to their continued existence roam free.

Or maybe one of them is dumb enough. Pure Vanilla hums thoughtfully, as if actually considering it. The fool. Shadow Milk purses his lips as Pure Vanilla holds his chin in his hand, imagining he could see the gears working overtime in that pretty little head of his. Trying to think through that dead-end plot, as if it could go anywhere. It's a no, Nilly, there's nothing you can give that'll have Shadow Milk help you, can't you get it through your thick skull?!

“It would be difficult to convince my friends to agree, but I can't say it would be impossible.” Pure Vanilla says, ultimately. It's about the stupidest thing Shadow Milk's ever heard from him, and he almost says as much. Pure Vanilla continues on the point before he can, however. “So long as they would give up their harmful ways, turn a new leaf.”

“Fat chance of that happening. You are aware who we're talking about, here?” Shadow Milk says flatly. “We've got burns-a-lot, who likes purposeless burning and maiming; flour-power, who could not care less about everything and believes we're all gonna die so we may as well die now; madame bug-bird, who– ehem, spoilers.” Shadow Milk fake coughs into his fist, before sitting up and rolling his eyes. “Point is, doll, we're set in our vices. There's not a thing that's gonna stop us from doing what we want, when we want, and what we want just-so-happens to do a massive quantity of harm.”

“I don't think you've done anything quite as dire as any of that since my time in the spire,” Pure Vanilla states. It's an observation that's chillingly true, and a surprising one too. Shadow Milk freezes, thinks back over the past months, and lets out a small hiss. “But you've still managed to entertain yourself just fine, haven't you?”

“I haven't stopped, I just haven't acted on a large scale! There are cookies whose lives have been ruined by my hand, who will never know that it was all because of a lie!” Shadow Milk snaps, hair writhing half-heartedly behind himself. But really, a handful of couples at the market, some rich farmers who needed to get knocked down a peg or two, and that guard who tried to damage his dear Black Sapphire? That's considerably less than what he'd have done in half a day before. He hasn’t crumbled a cookie just for fun, either! Since Pure Vanilla broke the spire he’s hardly done anything.

“I do not ask you to stop lying. It's a part of you, as surely as my truth is part of me. Both will always exist, but it must be balanced. That is why we need each other.” Pure Vanilla says, smiling softly. “A lie can be healing, just as much as it can be poison. You don't need to change what you are, simply what you do.”

“That sounds like a bunch of baloney.” Shadow Mill grumbles, lip curling. “And, not applicable to the other Beasts.”

“I'd argue, it's very applicable. But we can save that debate for another night.” Pure Vanilla folds his hands together, letting out a sigh. “My point is, if you can change your actions, so can they. We would only need to convince my friends to give us a chance to try.”

“You're crazy.” Shadow Milk responds, tone flat and expression unamused. But, he sighs. “Whatever. Another night, then. I'm done talking about this.”

Healing, as well as poison. Hmph. Stupid idea.

“That's fine,” Pure Vanilla says softly. “I did have one more thing to ask, however.”

Shadow Milk glances back at him with narrowed eyes, lips twitching into a scowl. “You had your five questions, Nilly.”

“Yes, yes, but this isn't a question. It's a request. Invitation, rather.” Pure Vanilla explains. Shadow Milk gestures for him to go on, and Pure Vanilla proceeds to do such. It's a stupid idea. Incredibly stupid. He couldn't imagine a worse one.

Shadow Milk will probably agree, regardless.

How could he not, when Pure Vanilla turns those baleful eyes his way and says please oh-so nicely?

Chapter Text

“I'm going to be gone for a week.” Shadow Milk announces, getting it out quickly before his minions could interrupt. Because they would interrupt, and protest, and turn this whole thing into a bigger deal than it was. “I want you both to stay in the spire during that time. Yes, Saph,” he glances at Black Sapphire as he cuts off the predictable question, “that means your mission to find that restoration spell is on hold. And yes, that means searching the library in general is on hold. You guys can do whatever you want while I'm gone, so long as you stay on the grounds. And don't wreck the place, but you knew that already.”

“Where are you going?!” Candy Apple asks, shocked and horrified, as Black Sapphire scowls. Their breakfasts are ignored half-eaten, both rising to their feet ready to argue why Shadow Milk needs to stay, why they need to go with him at the least, or anything along those lines. He'd entertain them, but he only has another two hours before he has to be in the Vanilla Kingdom. He still has to pack a few costume changes, among other things.

“You don't need to know where I'll be, just when I'll be back. I don't want you getting it in your head to follow me, and you can't even pretend you wouldn't. You can’t sell that lie convincingly.” Shadow Milk places his hands on the table and leans his weight on it, smiling slightly amused. They like to be underfoot a bit too much, but on occasion it can be endearing. When he lets it. “But I'll only be a week, maximum. Maybe less! We'll see. Saph?”

Black Sapphire snaps to attention, even if he looks most displeased still. “Yes, Master Shadow Milk?” He says, his voice carrying cool, even tones. It doesn't work very well when he's frowning, but it's a good attempt. Points for trying!

“You'll be in charge. If there's an emergency, you can come find me. I'll tell you where I'll be once that one,” Shadow Milk jerks his head to gesture at Candy Apple, “is out of earshot.”

“Hey! Why does he get to know where you're going?!” Candy Apple whines. Shadow Milk levels a tired stare her way.

“He's older,” He says flatly. “Eat your breakfast, Candy.”

“But I don't want you to leave!” Her lips start to quiver, and her eyes water, the perfect crocodile tears to try to push him into rethinking his decision. Or maybe not crocodile tears, who knows really, but in either case they don't work. “What if you don't come back?!”

“Of course I'll come back. And if I wasn't planning on coming back, I'd take you with me.” Shadow Milk pushes himself off the table and crosses his arms, floating backwards lazily. He glances at Black Sapphire with a furrowed brow. He's… a lot more quiet than he ought to be.

Black Sapphire doesn't even look like he's paying attention. He looks like he's been handed a problem to solve, and doesn't know what to do with the pieces just yet. It's a confusing reaction, really. Given their recent conversations (if you could call a conversation that happened almost a week ago recent) he'd expected a lot more of a fight. Not that he's complaining. It's easier when it's only Candy arguing back.

“I leave in two hours,” Shadow Milk says. “If you think of anything I need to know before then, just meet me at the door. I'll wait for exactly two minutes, and if you don't get to me by then you've missed your window. Got it?” He doesn't wait for them to respond before smiling brightly. “Good! Enjoy your breakfast!”

The whole thing goes down smoother than expected. Candy Apple tries to sneak into the luggage he drags out with himself, but that's not something he's surprised by. Black Sapphire tries to argue for permission to leave and continue his work in the Faerie Kingdom, but Shadow Milk remains staunch on his decision. He knows they can handle themselves just fine, but he wants to know for certain they aren't getting into trouble without him as a failsafe. His eyes don't have the range they should, so knowing where they should be is all he has to work with. Hollyberry and her cohort will have to wander pretty close to the spire along their way to the garden (or at least too close for his comfort), and Shadow Milk would rather his minions stay out of their way.

He whittles an agreement out of Black Sapphire eventually, and Candy Apple should remain focused on pestering Black Sapphire given he knew Shadow Milk's location. With their reluctant obedience achieved, Shadow Milk is free to don his costume and send himself (and his luggage) through to the Vanilla Kingdom. Specifically, the airship port.

Rolling one comedically cookie-sized trunk behind himself and a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, he matches any other flurrying traveller in the area, and no one spares him a glance when they're busy preparing for their own flights. It’s a remarkable shift from what he’d expected of the place, he didn’t think travel was a big thing in the Vanilla Kingdom, but it’s perhaps better that there’s more of a crowd to get lost in. Maybe he could ask about it… if he cared to, and really, he doesn’t. He cares more about getting to where he needs to be, and the crowds only matter because they’re slightly more inconvenient to travel through and slightly easier to hide among.

He doesn't really have to do much searching himself to find his flight; the heartbeat-like pulse and warm buzzing of his Soul Jam guides him to a small aircraft still in the process of being loaded. He unceremoniously dumps his trunk in the pile with the other freight before sidling up beside Pure Vanilla with a frown. Pure Vanilla doesn't turn to even pretend to look at him, busy watching the dock workers load the ship, but by the way his lips turn at the corners and eyes crinkle with amusement it's clear he notices Shadow Milk's less-than-thrilled arrival.

Shadow Milk had only given a very negative nonanswer, when Pure Vanilla had invited him on this little excursion. Something along the lines of, “if I don't have anything better to do after the oven freezes over”, but probably not word-for-word. In any case, a similarly emphatic technically-not-a-refusal but technically-not-an-acceptance. He still thinks it’s a stupid, stupid idea, but he wants Nilly to make that realization himself. To prevent future invitations, of course.

“I'm glad you changed your mind,” Pure Vanilla says, to which Shadow Milk only scoffs and rolls his eyes. He crosses his arms and glares at the floor, fingers tapping a stuttering rhythm as they wait, presumably for Pure Vanilla's other company. He may not be King, but he was still the only person qualified to be “in charge” of the kingdom. Even visiting his friends casually needs an entourage, and though Shadow Milk could crush any would-be thieves or troublemakers with barely the flex of his pinky, he is not Shadow Milk right now. It does make one wonder where said entourage was when Pure Vanilla traipsed into the spire to break into his bedroom, but Shadow Milk doesn't care enough to ask. He knows Pure Vanilla could be quite sneaky when he wanted to be, anyhow.

“I'm not. I'm only here because you'd make my dreams insufferable, moping about how I was missing out or whatever.” Shadow Milk grumbles lowly, eyes shooting Pure Vanilla's way when the not-quite-king lets out a muffled little giggle. “What's even the point, anyways?” Because even though Pure Vanilla explained why he had the request when he'd first made it, Shadow Milk can't follow the logic. No matter what angle he tries to view this silly plan of Pure Vanilla’s from, he can’t see anything but foolish optimism wrapped up with a pretty bow of delusion.

“The point is that I want my friends to get along.” Pure Vanilla responds, voice even and warm, face betraying no signs of a hidden meaning or secret secondary goal. “Or at the very least, be able to exist in the same room. Besides that, if we are to convince my friends that we mustn't seal away the other Beasts, they need to see that they can be befriended.”

“It's a terrible idea to even try. I'm an exception to the rule, doll.” Shadow Milk shakes his head slowly. “It's not like I can prove anything, either. I'm not a Beast at the moment, now am I?” Because it would have been a poorly thought out plan, for Pure Vanilla to invite the Beast of Deceit to his friends kingdom. Even worse to let it wander the streets of his own Kingdom, but at least then it’s only his foolish decision to make. Bringing Shadow Milk to that miserable frozen wasteland masquerading as a kingdom could be taken, at worst, as a betrayal of sorts.

“You can still be yourself, even if you wear a different face.” Pure Vanilla finally turns his head, opens his eyes with a too-fond smile. He looks directly at Shadow Milk, for all the good that does him. Shadow Milk will look no different in his eyes, given they'd only see a blue smudge regardless. “Though I'd had intent to introduce you as you are, if you truly don't wish to, I will not force your hand.”

“I'd be struck down the moment we landed, Nilly. Or they'd at least try.” Shadow Milk uncrosses his arms with a sigh, turns to face Pure Vanilla properly, head cocked to the side as he places his hands on his hips. “You seriously expected me not to put on a new face for this?”

“If I were to be honest, I did expect you to wear some disguise.” Pure Vanilla tilts his head, raises a hand to his chest. “You do not come by trust easily, and of course you would not trust that my friends would hesitate to harm you. You would not trust that I would not let them, if they were to try. No, I did not think you would join me without a mask. But I wished that you may. I wished that you would be able to trust me to that extent, though I knew that was in no manner a rational hope.”

Shadow Milk glances away again with a soft huff. Not quite annoyed, because this was typical of Pure Vanilla, but something close to it. “What are you, some kinda therapist?” He grumbles. “It's not a trust thing, it's a common sense thing.”

“I still wish for you to meet them,” Pure Vanilla starts. He takes a step closer, just a tiny step. Shadow Milk still notices, of course. “And I would rather you not act as whatever character you made for it. Even if you must look like someone else, would you consider being yourself regardless? Meet them as the dramatic, intelligent, and charming cookie I adore.” Pure Vanilla leans forward, just enough to catch Shadow Milk's gaze and hold it. “Would you try, for me?”

“I'm not exactly easy to get along with, and for whatever you want to prove to work, they kinda have to like me.” Shadow Milk drawls, intent on ignoring that splendiferously sappy plea and pushing down any warm feelings it tries to dredge up. “Especially if we're going to see Dark Cacao first, I mean, from what I've heard about that guy? What a stick in the mud, really.” Shadow Milk lets out a laugh, very obviously faked, but he cuts it off short. “I can ‘get along’ with your friends just fine, if you want me to play nice. But if you want me to be myself, you gotta know you're not getting any miracles.”

“You may be surprised,” Pure Vanilla says, gently taking Shadow Milk's wrist and sliding his hand down to lace their fingers together. Shadow Milk nearly jumps, startled and bewildered by the gentle touch, eyes wide and face slowly growing warm. “I quite like you as you are. I'm sure my friends will find themselves capable of it, too.” And, because Pure Vanilla can't take a break to let Shadow Milk process anything he says, his lips quirk up in amusement before he adds “Though, in fairness, Dark Cacao may find your penchant for dramatics a bit trying.”

If there was any coherent response brewing in Shadow Milk's brain, he doesn't get a chance to say it. Pure Vanilla's attention is drawn away by a quick greeting shouted by a cookie Shadow Milk swiftly recognizes as Black Raisin Cookie. Though, Pure Vanilla doesn't withdraw his hand.

“We will be ready to depart as soon as the luggage is tied down,” Black Raisin reports as she comes to a stop before them, only acknowledging Shadow Milk's presence with a quick glance before refocusing on Pure Vanilla. “Are you really sure you don't want a bigger retinue? We have the hands to spare.”

“I'm quite sure. This is only a visit between friends, not rulers,” Pure Vanilla responds. Black Raisin nods, even if she doesn't look particularly pleased at his casual disregard for appropriate safety measures, before finally turning her attention to the one who really matters here. Shadow Milk, rather.

“I assume you are the friend Pure Vanilla said may be joining us, although I don't recognize you. I am Black Raisin Cookie. I hope we'll get along.” She says. Though she lacks enthusiasm, and it's clear in her eyes that she doesn't know what to make of him just yet, Pure Vanilla beams as if her lackluster introduction was the pinnacle of friendliness.

Shadow Milk restrains himself from rolling his eyes, just barely, and gives Black Raisin a particularly insincere smile. Could he make it look genuine? Of course, but Pure Vanilla wants him to be himself, whatever that means, and so he's not particularly inclined to playing nice. “You can call me Malted Milk Cookie, I'm sure you were dying to know. And I suppose I am the friend Pure Vanilla mentioned, unfortunately.” Shadow Milk sighs, raising a hand to his forehead and gazing forlornly into the distance. “To think, I would be torn away from my hearth and home, leaving my poor treasures behind to fend for themselves, all to go to Dark Cacao Kingdom on the whims of a lousy old shepherd.”

Black Raisin immediately bristles, her uncertain stare firming into a fierce glare, but Pure Vanilla merely shakes his head with a slight expression of amusement. “If you had truly wished to bring your children with you, I would not have taken any issue with it. They're as welcome here as you are.” He lets go of Shadow Milk's hand, gesturing at the airship. “If you wish to bring them along, we can wait for you to retrieve them. There is nothing so urgent we can not delay our launch.”

Shadow Milk glares at him and purses his lips. “And undo all the hard work I did getting them to stay home? Those two are insufferably attached, and bringing them along is a recipe for disaster.” Pure Vanilla only smiles, covering his lips with a hand as his shoulders tremble almost imperceptibly. He very nearly looks the picture definition of mirth, and it takes a moment for Shadow Milk to register why.

He feels his face warm as his glare hardens, and he crosses his arms and sneers. “And they're not my kids! They're pesky little brats who refuse to leave me be, nothing more! Pests, at best.” Pure Vanilla turns away, though his shoulders still shake, and Shadow Milk grits his teeth. “Don't paste your sappy sentimental nonsense onto me! They're my assistants, not–” Shadow Milk lets out a frustrated sound, something halfway between a growl and an embarrassed choking, turning his back on Pure Vanilla swiftly. “I'm leaving, actually! I was being oh-so charitable, gracing you with my presence, and you're making a joke of it!”

“Oh, no. Whatever shall I do?” Pure Vanilla hums, voice the farthest thing from concern. Shadow Milk turns his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, to see that stupid placid smile on his face. Pure Vanilla stares back with his useless eyes and holds his hand to his cheek, sappy sentiment in every inch of his expression. Sickening. “I see there is no stopping you, clearly you are not changing your mind this time.”

Shadow Milk taps his foot, slowly at first, but quickening as Pure Vanilla makes no attempt at trying to convince him to stay. He scoffs again, stomping his foot down and whirling to face the ramp onto the ship. They're done with the cargo, so it's time to climb aboard anyhow. He's been watching. It’d be too much of a hassle to get them to unload it again, and he’s not just going to leave it all behind to make his point. “You're soooo lucky I have nothing better to do this week!” He snaps, ignoring Pure Vanilla's sweet quiet chuckles as he stomps onto the airship. What a boring way to travel. Why haven't they just moved along to portals already, it's not that hard.

“Pure Vanilla Cookie, are you…” Shadow Milk manages to hear, before being caught by one of the airship's crew and pointed to where he'll be staying as a passenger. He hardly cares to listen to what Black Raisin has to say, nor Pure Vanilla's response, so he accepts the redirection with grace.

Even if he truly wishes to crumble the next cookie he sees into a little jam-soaked pile of crumbs, he can restrain himself. Pure Vanilla wouldn't appreciate it, rather, and they're supposed to be friends. Even if Shadow Milk hates him more than anything on Earthbread. This trip was already proving to be more of a headache than it's worth.

… still. Promises to at least be interesting, right?

Chapter Text

Air travel is simply the worst.

Shadow Milk is familiar with defying gravity, and as such heights and all, but one thing he is certainly not used to is a fun little thing called turbulence. Which is the worst thing, he finds, and he understands slightly more why Eternal Sugar doesn't use her big puffy wings to get her anywhere outside her special little garden if she doesn't absolutely have to. He remembers Caster Sugar complaining about it in the past, too, but he's never taken it quite seriously. After all, his flight defied not only gravity, but also the laws of momentum, and thus friction and rough aerial conditions were both practical myths in his eyes, even if he knew logically that they existed.

He's not the kind to get motion sick, hell one of his favorite things to do is make other cookies motion sick just from watching his antics, but the airships shaking every time a stray gust of wind hit the hull certainly had an effect. He spends a lot of his time on the flight hiding in his cabin, tucked into the shadows under his cot. After all, shadows don't quite feel the physicality of the world the same as physical matter did. It was more tolerable, to his momentary slightly-more-delicate disposition.

Pure Vanilla checks on him regularly, knocking on the door and calling to him in an attempt to either draw him out or get him to state clearly whatever he may need. He doesn't respond, of course, but it was inevitable he'd be forced to at some point. Travelling by air thankfully is a quicker process than by land, which means a trip that would ordinarily be a few days is shortened to just slightly less than one, but that's still a significant portion of time to lock yourself away with no reprieve. Which means, after a few hours, Shadow Milk has no choice but to “wake up” to keep up the facade of mortality.

When he crawls out of the shadows he feels absolutely horrendous, but that's no excuse to look it. After all, the worse you feel, the more you need to hide it. He takes a bit of time making good use of the mirror in his cabin, fussing and fretting over each detail. White hair tied into a stylishly messy bun, the go-to for any tired, overworked artiste. A tight-knit sweater, white with three blue stars across the chest, with sleeves just slightly too-long that bunch at his wrists. Tired eyes, sharp smile, and a pair of blue gloves with a single white star on the back of each hand, matching his sweater in inverse.

He wears a lot more white as Malted Milk Cookie than he'd generally prefer. Even back when he was a Virtue, white stuck to being an accent color rather than his primary. Sure, he had some ensembles that broke that rule, but he generally stuck to his blues and blacks if he wasn't giving lectures. It's just not a color (though, if we're being pedantic here, white is not a color by technicality alone) he ever liked seeing himself in. Save it for the saints and the scholars, really. Even back then, he hadn't been the former, and he never considered himself the latter. But, costume must suit the name, and a name like Malted Milk doesn't lend itself to blues. As for why he’d pick a character like that… well, before Pure Vanilla made his ridiculous plea, Malted

Milk seemed simplest.

Yogurt Swirl wouldn't suit a trip like this, she's a busy woman running a failing house and caring for her two wards as best as she's able with the scraps they're given, she has no time to go gallivanting in the snow with Pure Vanilla. Other characters had more specific use cases, or were so old he didn’t desire to reprise the role. In contrast, Malted Milk is a semi-retired actor who has all the time in the world to do as he likes. Of the many cookies he could be, he'd felt an actor was the least likely to raise brows. After all, a travelling reclusive eccentric could appear anywhere, and know most anyone, without having to have a very clear origin. In addition, he’d never had a chance to use Malted Milk before. Now seemed like just the right opportunity.

Given the cookies Pure Vanilla associates with aren't exactly known as avid patrons of the arts, they'd have no reason to doubt he wasn't who he said he was. Theoretically. He's going to be interacting with the least trusting of Pure Vanilla's friends, after all, from the most stoic (and one of the most isolated) kingdoms in Crispia, so he isn't expecting a warm welcome even if he somehow isn't scrutinized into discovery. He's relying on Pure Vanilla to be trustworthy enough no effort is put into confirming his story, which is not a position he wants to be in. But, alas. He chose to be here, regardless.

Only once he's ensured that every hair out of place was in the right out of place, does he step out of his cabin. His timing is impeccable, as Pure Vanilla turns around the corner for his hourly check-in the moment the door clicks shut behind himself. The smile he receives is blinding, and Pure Vanilla makes his approach half-a-step quicker. Shadow Milk doesn't bother pretending to have even half the delight.

“Shadow Milk–!” Pure Vanilla starts, arms spreading out as if he's going to hug him, which Shadow Milk feels… oddly conflicted about. But Shadow Milk is quick to stop Pure Vanilla with a hand over his mouth, glaring up at him with mild annoyance and a sour turn in his stomach as the ship jolts veeery slightly once again. Pure Vanilla blinks his stupid pretty eyes, staring at Shadow Milk in confusion as he lets his free hand come up to try to pry Shadow Milk's hand off. The glow of Nilly’s staff dims slightly, as if to match the kicked-puppy expression Pure Vanilla attempts to slip into. Still headache inducing, though.

“Malted Milk, Nilly.” Shadow Milk corrects, letting him take his wrist and free his mouth once again. “Or just Milk, if keeping that straight is too much for you.” The sad, pitiful expression evaporates in a matter of seconds as Pure Vanilla smiles, eyes filled with that sickly soft fondness Shadow Milk finds so loathsome. His hold on Shadow Milk's wrist loosens, moves to instead loosely and gently hold his hand, a gesture seeping with sappy affection. Shadow Milk only narrows his eyes further.

“My apologies,” Pure Vanilla says, rubbing his thumb over Shadow Milk's knuckles as his eyes fall closed again. “I assumed, since we were alone, you'd not mind.”

“If we were somewhere private, maybe,” Shadow Milk responds. “But we're in a hallway, Nilly. Anyone can walk in at any time, heck, voices carry! They could just crack open a door and whoop! There goes my secrets, all gone, all my careful planning all for naught. Thanks to one loose-lipped silly old fool.”

“You make an excellent point. I'll keep that in mind, bluebird.” Pure Vanilla raises Shadow Milk's hand slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his knuckles without any warning whatsoever. Shadow Milk bristles, surprise and confusion wrestling in his mind as he tries to come up with some coherent response. He can't stop a slight bit of color rising to his face, though he can keep his scowl firm and raise a single brow. Look unaffected, and he is unaffected. Simple as that.

“Bluebird? Seriously?” He asks, voice dull and unamused. Pure Vanilla chuckles slightly, lowering their hands and entwining their fingers together properly now, squeezing briefly.

“Oh, well, I am a silly old fool. Keeping names straight might cause me some trouble.” Pure Vanilla's voice is warm with amusement, a quiver in his voice threatening more of those lovely little giggles he on occasion lets slip. “An endearing nickname would solve that dilemma, wouldn't it?”

“Sure. But bluebird?” Shadow Milk responds, letting Pure Vanilla gently tug him into movement. They walk side by side, hands still entwined, though Pure Vanilla is the one leading them. Shadow Milk doesn't really have his eyes on the path ahead. “You could have picked anything.”

“I thought it fitting,” Pure Vanilla says. “Both you and bluebirds are, well, blue. You both fly, too. And you both absolutely love the sound of your own voices.” Pure Vanilla chuckles, shoulders hiking as he tilts his head to offer Shadow Milk a toothy smile. “Although if I am quite honest, I love your voice a fair bit myself. I can not blame you for it.” He adds, voice warm with sappy affection.

Shadow Milk tears his eyes away and scowls at the ground, desperately trying to force the heat out of his cheeks. Stupid, idiotic, absolutely moronic old fool. Does he not hear himself, how ridiculous he sounds?! Think about your words for a second!

Gah. Shadow Milk needs to get a grip, rather. This is just how Nilly is, isn't it? Thoughtlessly genuine and affectionate to all his friends with no fear of rejection or judgement. Why would he keep an inane comment to himself when he could share it? His admiration and care must be known entities, so that his friends may never doubt their worth. This is just… normal. Exceedingly so. Shadow Milk just needs to adjust to it, and quickly.

“I already feel sick enough, doll. I don't need your sappiness making it any worse.” Shadow Milk rolls his eyes, though if Nilly notices his little jab came a few moments late he doesn't let on. He simply squeezes Shadow Milk's hand and pulls him through an open doorway, landing them in a small dining room.

Black Raisin was there already, sitting at the end of one bench and slowly picking at a raisin bun as her crow nibbles from a bowl of seeds set just adjacent to her. She looks up when they enter, staring blankly at Shadow Milk and then at Pure Vanilla, her eyes flicking to their entwined hands for a moment before her lips twitched into a barely visible frown and her eyes narrowed just slightly.

Well, he was going to yank his hand away, but now he doesn't want to. Though, Pure Vanilla pulls away himself, so in the end it hardly matters.

“You feel sick?” Pure Vanilla asks, all concerned and confused, frown soft and worried. He faces Shadow Milk and raises his hand to press against his forehead, humming softly and thoughtfully. “You don't feel feverish. In fact, I'd say you feel rather frigid.”

Shadow Milk bats his hand away and steps back, scowling. “I mean I feel nauseous, Nilly. Ever heard of airsickness?” At Pure Vanilla's further confused look, he sighs with exaggerated exhaustion. “I've never flown this way, doll. I'm adjusting.”

Suddenly, Pure Vanilla understands. His mouth opens in a little “o” shape as he realizes his deathly mistake, and then he winces back with a sheepish smile. “I'm sorry, I had assumed you wouldn't have any issue.” He says, truly apologetic. He suddenly straightens with a small gasp, and quickly turns to pull Shadow Milk to the table. “Please, sit! I'll be right back, Bluebird!” Shadow Milk finds himself suddenly pushed to sit on the bench by fretting hands, and blinks away his stunned bewilderment as Pure Vanilla flutters out the door again.

Black Raisin snorts, and he realizes she's sat on the opposite bench still. He'd almost forgotten she was there. He turns to glare at her, but she doesn't even look at him. She's focused on scratching the top of her crow's head, though she looks endlessly entertained.

“What's so funny?” Shadow Milk sneers, but if Black Raisin reacts at all he can not see it. She seems pretty content to give all her attention to her dumb bird, and ignore him entirely.

“I've been sworn to secrecy.” Black Raisin responds, tone flat and uninterested. But what the heck does that mean?! Shadow Milk turns in his seat, facing her properly as he crosses his arms. She still doesn't even look at him! “Pure Vanilla will tell you,” she glances at him, finally, but returns to her bird in less than a second. “Eventually.”

“And it's soooo funny, whatever it is?” Shadow Milk asks. Black Raisin shrugs, taking another bite of her stupid raisin bun. They're not even good, the texture is terrible! How could she even stand it, her taste is horrible. “Fine. I'll just ask him about it.” He grumbles, glancing back at the open door with a scowl.

“It's more funny that you don't know already, when Pure Vanilla isn't really that good at hiding it,” she answers.

“Like what?” Pure Vanilla is almost exceedingly normal today. Annoyingly bothersome, annoyingly attentive, annoyingly affectionate, annoyingly caring, all of his little annoying trademarks. Maybe slightly more overbearing about it, but given Shadow Milk is being so generous as to go along with his silly whims regarding this trip, that’s just the fair recompense. Is he missing something here, or is she just making it up to get on his nerves? It's not working, if so. He's just in a bad mood already, what with the sickness coiled in his gut and the absolute pain he knows this trip will end up being.

Black Raisin raises a brow and looks at him, almost disbelievingly, but not quite. “I suppose you wouldn't notice a difference, huh?” She muses, before shaking her head. “Whatever. I'm not supposed to say anything about it, anyways.”

“Then why say anything at all?” Shadow Milk grumbles, but any chance for a response is swiftly dashed by Pure Vanilla's sudden return. His staff is angled awkwardly, held in the crook of his elbow, which must be half of why he moves so slowly. The other half is probably what else he's holding. He carries a tray, with a teapot ready to pour, steam wafting up with a sweet and earthy aroma. Only one cup is set upon it, along with a dish full of sugar cubes, a small jar of honey, and a small pitcher of what was likely milk or cream. Probably milk, actually.

“I'm glad I had thought to bring some chamomile for the flight,” dear Nilly starts, setting the tray down on the table in front of Shadow Milk. “I don't ordinarily get airsick, but the winds in Dark Cacao's kingdom can be trying. I'm glad I was so cautious, for your sake.”

“Yeah, yeah, well I never get airsick. This ship's the real problem. It needs to stop shaking so much.” Shadow Milk responds, reaching for the pot only for Nilly to beat him to it. Whatever. He can have his tea poured for him. It's the least Nilly could do, after subjecting him to all of this. He takes the pitcher of, yep, milk, and once Nilly sets the teapot down he goes to prepare his preferred cup of chamomile. Two teaspoons of honey, and however much milk it takes to not-quite overflow the cup. Stir gently until well blended, take a sip, close his eyes, and– “This is absolutely disgusting.”

Pure Vanilla smiles, tilting his head in that endearing manner as he lets out a soft hum. “I could brew another pot, if you'd like.” He says, though he's not convincing in the least. Shadow Milk opens one eye to glance at him, taking another sip of tea rather pointedly as Pure Vanilla props his staff against the wall. “Let me just take your cup–”

Shadow Milk moves his arm to block his reach, though Nilly doesn't really try that hard to take the cup from him. “No, no, don't waste your time. I seriously doubt you could do much better.” Shadow Milk responds airily, turning his face away to take another sip. It's really quite good, he must've used whole flowers, not just a bagged blend. Fresh, too. Maybe home grown–

“I insist, if it's truly so terrible, let me brew another for you.” Pure Vanilla says, arms looping over Shadow Milk's shoulders in his moment of brief distraction. Shadow Milk flinches, nearly spilling his cup before realizing that Nilly was still trying to take it. He holds the cup at length, gritting his teeth and stubbornly ignoring Nilly's stupid pretty face squished next to his as Pure Vanilla reaches for the cup, fingertips barely brushing it as they both strain to win this impromptu little game.

Up until Black Raisin clears her throat, reminding them both of their unfortunate audience, making them freeze. Pure Vanilla draws himself back, smiling with only a slight embarrassed flush to his cheeks, hands clasped in front of himself tightly. She gives him a rather pointed look, something just a little exasperated. “I'm going to my cabin for a nap. Would you mind waking me before we land?” She says to him.

“Of course, my friend.” Pure Vanilla says brightly, his smile almost a tinge relieved. “I'll be sure to remember that.” Shadow Milk takes another sip of his drink, now that Pure Vanilla was done trying to pretend to steal it from him, as Black Raisin stands to leave with her crow flitting after her. He'll have to figure out what little secret dear Nilly was trying to keep, he hates being out of the loop. Something to do with how he acts should give it away, apparently, but Shadow Milk can't see anything particularly strange. Just Nilly being Nilly.

“Not gonna have a cup yourself?” Shadow Milk asks. Pure Vanilla shakes his head, stepping around to sit on the recently vacated bench, propping his arms up on the table and holding his chin with his interlaced fingers. “You can't expect me to drink a whole pot of this stuff alone, doll.”

“Likely not, but I made it for you, not for myself.” Pure Vanilla says, opening his eyes to watch Shadow Milk with open fondness, smile soft and warm like a spring afternoon. See? Exactly normal Nilly things. Black Raisin Cookie was an insane woman, if she thinks he's acting any bit obvious about whatever secret he's hiding. “Chamomile is good for nausea, as you're aware.”

“Yeah, well,” Shadow Milk scrunches up his nose, “it's not like I've made you anything, is it? Not like I made a meal specifically for you and you went and made me eat it anyways.” He rolls his eyes, and opens a small shadowy portal to take out a teacup. He sets it down on the tray and shoves it Nilly's way, stubborn frown on his face in a challenge to fight it. Pure Vanilla only chuckles, taking the teapot and pouring himself a cup without having to be told any more directly.

“I suppose I did do that,” Pure Vanilla says, “but does it really mean so much to you? I feel as though this is simply… another petty overture, though only a very slight one.”

“Call it petty if you like.” Shadow Milk shrugs. “Turnabout is fair play, Nils. There are worse things I could do.”

“Mm, that is true,” Pure Vanilla takes a sip from his tea, with no additives like a monster, and sighs contentedly. “I do so appreciate that you restrain yourself, my dear.”

“You'd better. It's such a pain, after all.” Shadow Milk says with an airy sigh. Pure Vanilla smiles again, humming softly. “You're not good at showing it, either. I still reap no rewards for my kindness! I may as well quit trying entirely!” He bemoans, leaning back dramatically as he raises the back of his hand to his forehead.

“I shall have to improve, then.” Pure Vanilla says, raising his finger to his chin in a thoughtful pose, though his smile doesn't vanish. “After all, it is a dear wish of mine to let you know exactly how much I appreciate you.” Shadow Milk rolls his eyes again, and hides his smile behind his cup. Still, only normal Nilly things. Nothing to tell him whatever silly secret Pure Vanilla supposedly has. Not that he particularly cares, of course. He just hates being excluded.

Chapter Text

They don't land very far into the frozen wasteland that the Dark Cacao kingdom happens to be. This is mostly because the closer to the Licorice Sea you get, the worse the weather conditions are. While there are other, more robust airships that can take the gusty gales and the abuse of the atmosphere fighting their continued flight, those are in reserves exclusively for travel to and from Beast-Yeast for expeditions for the war effort. The other reason would be that Dark Cacao did not feel the need to build a landing pad any closer, so wary of his allies having an easier time reaching his little fortress.

Or, that's as much as Shadow Milk gleans from Pure Vanilla's attempt at an explanation. He didn't pay much attention, more focused on not freezing to death as they waited for their luggage to be transferred to a sleigh sent to receive them. He's more annoyed by the hassle, really, of waiting for their luggage when it was traveling separate to them anyways. The airship had at least been temperate, warm enough to be tolerable even once they'd crossed into the more frigid climate, but there's nothing to defend them from the elements for the rest of their journey. Shadow Milk runs cold naturally, and he's quite sensitive to drops in temperature, so it's not an ideal position to be in.

Well. Save for how fretful and doting Pure Vanilla gets when Shadow Milk starts to shiver despite the two layers of jackets he's pulled on over his already-thick sweater. He can appreciate the attention, and the concern Nilly shows is very amusing. It's inarguable that Pure Vanilla is a boon to have in these conditions really, he radiates a gentle warmth like a crackling campfire, making standing near him quite effective at chasing away the worst of the chill. This is an objective fact, mind, the snow melts a touch faster around his feet and even Black Raisin Cookie takes up space on his other side to take in the warmth.

Thankfully, everyone is eager to get this travel bit over and done with, so the unloading and reloading is a swift process and they're all bundled up into their snow carriage posthaste. Shadow Milk keeps an eye on their surroundings, more because Black Raisin and Pure Vanilla are involved in their own conversation than out of any real interest in the sights. After all, it's all just snow and ice, and not particularly pretty snow and ice either. It's hard to see anything with the flurries of snow cascading down and whirling in the harsh, sharp winds.

He can't believe cookies would choose to live here. It's an absolutely miserable place, and he hates it already. But now he's stuck here for the next few days, stuck in the miserable wet cold with company that promises to be so utterly dull and dry he may just crumble from boredom just thinking about it. Just why did he agree to come along, anyways? He knew it was going to be terrible, and yet—!

He ends up dozing off about midway through the ride, unintentionally of course. He learns this only when someone is gently shaking his shoulder, calling “wake up, Bluebird,” in a soft voice filled with the warmth this miserable place sorely lacks, when they have finally reached their destination. He sits up, freeing Nilly's shoulder from its temporary state of acting as his pillow, and does not hesitate to climb out of their terrifically terrible means of transport. He's eager to shore up inside the warmth of true shelter, but there's formalities and such that shall be expected. He won't delay them, even if it means his fun dramatics has to be put on hold for a moment.

Pure Vanilla and Black Raisin do not tarry, either. While Pure Vanilla is blessed by the light and warmth of his truth, blegh, that doesn't mean the cold can not touch him at all. That, and for the sake of his poor freezing friends who take quite poorly to the temperature, means he's about as eager to get the whole greeting gauntlet through with as they are so they can actually sit by a fire.

Dark Cacao is stood by the doors, the picture definition of poise and quiet strength, yet more importantly in Shadow Milk's mind is the whole blocking the doors thing. It's likely something inside the realm of more polite or proper to greet them outside, Shadow Milk doesn't quite get nor particularly cares about the modern standards of propriety, but he believes if anyone would be so staunch about that sort of thing it would be dear Mystie's counterpart. Even so… would it kill him to get them out of the wind before playing host?! The walls don't block everything!

Still, Shadow Milk doesn't pull any faces or make any rude gestures. Not out of any respect or anything, but a need to get this to go as quickly as possible. Even while he huddled into Pure Vanilla's side and wore three layers of warm clothes, he was shivering. He must be weaker than he thought, really, because he's never been this sensitive to the cold before. Did he like it? No, not particularly, but he didn't need two coats over a sweater to withstand a flurry. The Spire doesn't get that cold, but its definitely cold enough he should be used to a chill by now.

“My friend,” Pure Vanilla says, brightening considerably when he spots Dark Cacao. He steps forwards to greet him, leaving Shadow Milk behind to freeze, wrapping his friend in a warm and gentle hug. Pure Vanilla's smile is bright and unrestrained, and his soft glow seems to flare brighter in the presence of his long-time friend. A flicker of irritation sparks deep in Shadow Milk's chest, for only a moment, at the sight. Pure Vanilla never greeted him that warmly. “I am grateful you would spare me some time for this visit. Tell me, have you been well?”

Dark Cacao, as foreboding a figure he cuts with the dragons following at his heels, looks downright pathetic with the small smile he offers Pure Vanilla after they pull away from their greeting hug. Though the smile lasts only for a moment, replaced by the stern stoicism Shadow Milk had expected of ol’ Mystie's other half before anyone with less sharp eyes could notice. “We have been recovering from the Beast's attack at a steady pace, and it seems that we will soon be clear of the worst of it. I am well, now that that matter is settled.” And, there it is. The stalwart good guy-isms Shadow Milk expected. Boring. Dull. It takes all of his will not to roll his eyes, but he manages. Barely.

“I am glad to hear that,” Pure Vanilla says, smile bright as ever with hand over his heart. His signature sincerity making him glow even brighter and warmer, somehow, melting snow before it can even land on his shoulders. How dull.

Pure Vanilla turns, slightly, gesturing back at his retinue of two with one arm, opening his eyes to meet Shadow Milk's gaze for a moment. He stands a little straighter at the attention, though he makes no effort to clear the boredom and annoyance from his expression. Nilly can't see it that clearly, but his company surely can. He's not going to back down from a glare-off with Sir Broody and Menacing, though. He's seen scarier displays of displeasure from White Flour over considerably smaller slights, and by all means Dark Cacao isn't going to be a threat. Not when Shadow Milk looks like any normal mortal cookie, in any case.

“As I had told you, I brought some companions with me. You have met Black Raisin Cookie,” Pure Vanilla continues, to which Black Raisin gives a respectful bow her crow mimics as it clings stubbornly to her shoulder. It's a practical fluffball, and trembling in the cold worse than any in their party, but he knows Pure Vanilla has ensured its continued health and safety with a bundle of spells prior to their landing. Why Black Raisin didn't leave it behind entirely is beyond him, but who is he to judge? He's got his own attachment to a pair of annoying little creatures, after all. “and I am happy to finally introduce you to my dear friend, Malted Milk Cookie.”

If this was his cue to be polite and bow or whatever formality was expected of him, he wouldn't be doing it. Shadow Milk just smiles, toothy and sharp, waving as casually as if Dark Cacao was any stranger met on the road. Of course, this is what dear Nilly asked for. If he didn't want Shadow Milk to “be himself” in this manner, he shouldn't have asked at all. Of course, the lack of proper respects paid may cause trouble, Dark Cacao's eyes narrow in clear displeasure and Black Raisin gives him a judgemental glare, but he doesn't care. It is not the worst he could do, nor the worst he would like to do. They really should be grateful he was restraining himself.

He pays no more mind to the rest of the proceedings than they deserve, which is to say he lets Pure Vanilla and Dark Cacao exhaust themselves of thanks and greetings without his interruption and simply deigns to watch the crowd of servants unloading and moving all of their luggage. It's more entertaining, takes less of his brainpower to follow along with, and allows him to remind himself that soon, soon, they will be drawn inside where it will be warm and dry.

It takes three cookies to move his trunk, which is hilarious for the simple fact that it's carrying very little. Just a few outfit changes, and some supplies for crafts if he gets bored. Not a lot, just some. And a couple dress forms. And his sewing machine. And– well. He supposes that is a bit more than he'd originally thought. He'd had to cast a weight-reducing spell on it to move it even when it was just empty, so he must not have noticed it was getting significantly heavier at all.

Or, perhaps, that's all a little joke, and he's known the whole time that three cookies to move that one heavy trunk was well within the bounds of reasonable, or even in the bounds of impressive in that it only took so few. He could have made it heavier. He could, right at this moment, make it heavier with a couple subtle spells. It would be pretty funny to see them—

“Bluebird?” Shadow Milk turns his head, blinking for the first time in… probably the last minute or so. Hopefully no one has noticed. Pure Vanilla smiles softly at him, beckoning him with a hand. Dark Cacao is leaving, headed inside the fortress, his dragons slithering in just before him and another newly appeared cookie waiting patiently by the door, chatting idly with Black Raisin Cookie. “They'll be leading us to our rooms now. I imagine you want to settle in before we join Dark Cacao for dinner?”

He'd rather do anything else than join that utter bore for a meal, but he needn't forget Nilly's whole silly reason for inviting him along. As stupid as he finds the idea, the ancients will never like him if he doesn't actively try to make them, it's important to Pure Vanilla. That, ugh. That's something that unfortunately holds weight in his mind. It wouldn't have a month ago, but it's not a month ago, now is it?

“If by ‘settle in’ you mean throw myself into the nearest fire, then you'd be right.” Shadow Milk responds under his breath, and judging by the lack of change in Pure Vanilla's expression he didn't happen to hear it. Good, because Shadow Milk wasn't intending on being heard. “How long will I have before then? I have some projects I brought with me, and I need to know if I have time to get things set up to work on them.” He asks, this time audibly, as he trails after Pure Vanilla.

Once again, Pure Vanilla reaches back for him and takes his hand. Annoying little habit he's formed, but at the very least he walks slowly. He's not literally dragging Shadow Milk along, unlike others in the recent past. “We have a couple hours yet, would that suffice?” At Shadow Milk's answering nod, Pure Vanilla smiles. “Of course, I could lend you a hand if you'd like. I do wonder what projects you could possibly have to work on.”

“Nothing you can help with,” Shadow Milk pauses. To elaborate, or to leave it a mystery? Neither option truly matters, nor is there a true need to keep this secret. If Nilly is as nosy and pestering throughout their stay as he's been on the flight over, then it's more of a hassle to bother hiding this little thing. And, once again, it's inconsequential. Shadow Milk didn't bring his projects along because they held any importance, but just because they were things to do, and he knew that he would inevitably grow bored and perhaps a bit reckless if he didn't have something to occupy himself.

Especially given how often he would need to break from the social monotony. Despite all of his qualities befitting a more sociable cookie, Shadow Milk did not like being around too many cookies for too long. For a number of reasons, really. He may love the attention he gathers, he's a performer of course, but there is a limit to how much he can take when it's expected to be reciprocal.

In any case, he sees no reason not to tell Pure Vanilla about something he will likely see for himself sooner rather than later. Again, assuming Pure Vanilla will attempt to pry him out of the comforts of the room he's lended much like he had on the airship. Not unlikely. He's impossibly bothersome.

Pure Vanilla lightly squeezes his hand before gently tugging him out of the way of a cookie passing by them in the halls, but Shadow Milk is only half aware of that. Too lost in thought. “It's all costume work, mostly. Can't do too much without my models, but I can get the designs solidified and patterns cut. I want them ready for fitting, otherwise my assistants will realize what I'm up to and attempt to make themselves scarce.”

“Why would they do that?” Pure Vanilla asks, sounding somewhat surprised at the thought. Which, given his limited knowledge on Black Sapphire and Candy Apple's personalities and the base impression his time in the spire had granted him, makes some sense. They certainly were putting their best foot forward, in a manner, in an attempt to show off their devotion and loyalty to their Master. He'd know them as nothing short of reverent, oh-so grateful to receive anything from Shadow Milk, so why would they balk when he hand-crafts them clothes? One would think they'd weep from joy at the concept alone.

“We're all quite the busybodies,” Shadow Milk responds with a shrug. “Asking them to stand still for more than two seconds is the equivalent to pulling teeth, in their minds. They love the attention, love the results, but the process, well.” Shadow Milk rolls his eyes as he makes a so-so gesture with his free hand. “I know their measurements, so it doesn't take that long to adjust from there, but that doesn't mean they'll cooperate any more than if I were asking them to stand for hours.”

“Is it truly a necessary step? If you know their measurements, I mean.” Pure Vanilla comes to a stop, although a gradual one. Shadow Milk blinks, realizing blankly that the cookie they've been following (the whole time, despite Shadow Milk's failure to acknowledge them) dithering before a door and glancing between Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk with an expression between nervous and curious. “A moment,” Pure Vanilla says, before turning his face to acknowledge the servant with a gentle smile.

The two speak, the cookie’s nerves melting away at Pure Vanilla's patience and kindness, not unlike how Pure Vanilla melted the snow falling outside. It's not worth paying much mind to; whose room they've reached, Pure Vanilla's of course, where Shadow Milk's will be found, a few doors down, will they point it out so there's no confusion? And then, they move again. Pure Vanilla's undivided attention does not return until the cookie has brought them to Shadow Milk's room, received a polite thank you from Pure Vanilla, and made their final bow and exit.

“It is necessary,” Shadow Milk finally says, and the brief confusion in Pure Vanilla's expression is funny enough to bring a toothy grin to his face. He draws his hand out of Pure Vanilla's hold and opens his door, stepping inside with only a cursory glance at the spartan decor before he realizes the place is equipped with a wood stove and he dashes over to get it kicked into gear.

“Properly fitting the clothes, I mean. Just knowing their measurements doesn't mean the fabric will lay in the right way once it's on, and it's pretty much the equivalent of checking your work after a particularly stubborn math problem. Sometimes sleeves are too loose, sometimes they're too tight, and really it's best to give yourself more fabric and pare it down from there so you know that your sizing will be correct. Plus– close the door, Nilly,” Pure Vanilla, smile oozing with that silly sappiness characteristic of him, steps into the room fully instead of just hovering in the doorway like some creep and closes the door behind him as requested, “Plus, Candy should still be growing, anyhow, and so cutting to her measurements precisely isn't going to be helpful when she finally hits that last growth spurt.” He pauses, grinning as the fire finally catches. “I mean, if she ever hits that growth spurt. Still. I'd rather not waste fabric on something she'll never wear.”

“I see,” Pure Vanilla responds. He takes his chance to glance around the room himself, take in the amenities, which likely will match the ones found in his room. Although, it's not all too unlikely he will have more creature comforts than this, or, well. Hm. Hard to say, isn't it? Shadow Milk knows that if it were Mystie, who is the only frame of reference he has for stick-in-the-muds who may play host, every room would be the same regardless of who was visiting. Even back when it was White Flour hosting, she never really cared for favoritism. Perhaps Dark Cacao is the same, or maybe it's pragmatism. If the guest rooms are never used then it likely doesn't matter, keeping them pared down to only absolute essentials would spare resources, but you'd expect a bit more effort would go into preparing them for guests. On the whole, at least the bed is made. Shadow Milk would have to complain about the lack of desk, though. Just where is he supposed to put his sewing machine?!

Shadow Milk's luggage sits in the corner, and apparently the overly large trunk catches Pure Vanilla's eyes because he begins to walk over to it. Rude. “What are you doing?” Shadow Milk asks, but as much as he wishes to follow and intervene, he's too busy removing his damp jacket and sitting as close to the wood stove as he can without burning himself. Surprise surprise, it's still cold in the massive fortress in the frozen wasteland. Shoulda guessed.

“I said I could help you, and I do intend on following through.” Pure Vanilla smiles, turning to face him for a moment as he flicks the first latch on the trunk open. “Given you seem to be quite preoccupied, rather.”

“Don't touch my sewing machine,” Shadow Milk sneers, but makes no move to stop Pure Vanilla from opening the second latch. Still, he keeps a wary eye on him. Pure Vanilla has a nasty habit of breaking Shadow Milk's things, after all, and he sincerely feels that breaking his sewing machine would be the final straw.

Pure Vanilla pauses, apparently stunned at the amount of stuff Shadow Milk managed to fit into the trunk. It's not that much, Shadow Milk just has a lot of fabric bunched up to make it look like more. Just five or so bolts, the ones he'd needed for what he planned. Then a few extra bits and bobs, for detail work. Buttons, clasps, and zippers for closures, too, embroidery needles and embroidery thread, gems for that bit of sparkle– the works. Oh, but he packed ribbons in his messenger bag. They had a habit of getting tangled if they moved around too much.

He didn't plan to do too much, didn't expect he'd have that much free time, but he had recently been reminded that the last new clothes his dear minions had received were from way before he was sealed in that damned tree, save for Saph's new vest for his errand in the Faerie Kingdom. Plus, he's got a much better understanding of what they prefer aesthetically now, and given they've started to fight over the articles they both liked from Black Sapphires wardrobe it made sense to provide Candy with options similar to them, and perhaps just a touch more to her liking. He'd used his recent trip to Hollyberry kingdom to get a sense for more modern styles, as well, and has been drafting ideas since. Still, his not too much likely looks like an overwhelming amount for a cookie as uneducated in these matters as Pure Vanilla.

“Do you plan on spending any time with us at all?” Pure Vanilla asks, voice slightly hurt and only a tinge accusing when he turns to point his frown Shadow Milk's way. Shadow Milk responds, naturally, with a roll of his eyes and a snap of his fingers. The items in the trunk began to flow out, Pure Vanilla stepping back to avoid being accidentally hit by them as they swept through the air.

“I work fast, and I need something to do when these cookies inevitably try to drive me insane.” Shadow Milk drawls, waving his hand lazily to direct the bolts of fabric to pile themselves in a corner. His sewing machine, much more carefully, nestles itself among them like an egg in a nest. He'd worked hard on making that thing, and it's already paid dividends just with making Saph's new vest. The last thing he wants is that monstrosity to break. Not before he could use it for something way more work-intensive, at least. “I'll go along with your little ideas about this trip and play a good little mortal, but I should remind you I'm not exactly a socialite. I have my limits for how much inane chatter I can stomach.”

Pure Vanilla watches him for a moment, face lax in an expression of surprise, before it melts into that fond, sappy smile once again. “I see. My apologies, then, for my uncharitable assumption.” Pure Vanilla rests his cheek against his staff, eyes opened to shimmer with peaceful delight. Ugh. “Do you know what you'll be making already?”

“Of course I do. If I didn't, I would have brought everything with me.” Shadow Milk grins. He's thawed enough, now, to take off the other jacket, though he remains by the stove regardless as the dress forms get set aside rather carelessly. “Our little romps around Hollyberry Kingdom have given me tons of inspiration, actually.” And, with the needful retirement of their previous characters, they needed to attempt blending in a tinge better for their next grocery run. Hollyberrian styles would serve them well, even if they're not all that he'll be working on. They had plenty of tourists in rather interesting fashions, that Shadow Milk is eager to reinvent to his liking.

His clothes steadily fill the lended wardrobe, as the last items needed to unpack, and Pure Vanilla reaches out to grab one of the articles as it floats by. His eyes close again, making it clear that he's examining the item, and he hums. “You make all of their clothing, don't you? And your own. Even items like this.” He holds up the sweater he'd selected, a plain blue turtleneck he'd always found rather dull, but not worth tossing. It has its uses, after all.

“I can't have my minions go out looking anything less than their best. Do you know how poorly that would reflect on me?!” Shadow Milk scoffs, hand pressed to heart in affront. “Besides, it's a thing to do. Boredom is such a major issue in my life, and unfortunately there's only so many times you can repeat the same games over and over before even they get dull.” He shrugs. “Besides, I can normally do most of the work alongside other things.”

“Mm,” Pure Vanilla responds, rather eloquently, before folding the sweater up and taking it over to the wardrobe to put it away with the rest. “I suppose that makes sense for you.” He says, and though it's impossible to see his face with his back turned to Shadow Milk, his smile is audible regardless. “Would you be willing to show–”

A sudden knock on the door interrupts Pure Vanilla's question, and they both turn their heads to face it. No one declares themselves, although the knocks were clear enough there wasn't any mistaking them for an accident. Shadow Milk catches Pure Vanilla's eye (or, rather, shares a glance with his staff given his eyes were still currently closed) and inclines his head to gesture for him to open the door. No matter how warm he was getting, he wasn't leaving the stove until it burned through its first log.

Pure Vanilla gives him a slight frown, shaking his head slightly with a sigh only a tinge exasperated, but complies with the silent order regardless. His exchange with the cookie outside is brief, but clear enough. They were looking for Pure Vanilla because their delightful King wishes to speak with him alone, despite having already had plenty of time to talk when they'd met at the front gates. Shadow Milk is not fool enough to think Pure Vanilla will choose to stay and talk costume production with him instead, of course, but still. What a rude interruption.

“Bluebird…” Pure Vanilla starts, tone apologetic, but Shadow Milk just flaps a dismissive hand in his direction with a roll of his eyes.

“Whatever. Isn't this whole trip to see that stuffy old bore anyhow? You can go waste your time with that dull fool king as much as you'd like, I couldn't care less.” Shadow Milk drawls, shaking his head. “Not that I understand why you would want to do that, but you make stupid choices all the time. Who am I to stop you?”

“I'd appreciate it very much if you wouldn't insult my friends, especially when you haven't had any proper chance to meet them yet. As a guest in his Kingdom you could stand to be more respectful.” Pure Vanilla doesn't hide his frustration, but that's the extent of his scolding. For now, anyway. “I'll be seeing you at dinner. I'm sure someone will be sent to retrieve you for it.” Implied, yet unstated, I will not look for you myself. How annoying, did he think that was some kind of punishment or whatever?

“You asked for this.” Shadow Milk mutters. “Be myself, you say, but then you scold me for the very same thing! Well, sorry, Nilly, but I'm just doing as you asked.” It's not even the worst thing Shadow Milk could have said, even. He's said worse things about Pure Vanilla, to his face even! Though, of course Pure Vanilla's one limit would be his friends. Predictable, dull, ridiculous fool he is.

It's clear that despite his low volume Pure Vanilla has no trouble hearing him, given the annoyed glare leveled his way. “I did not ask for you to be rude and ornery. I asked that you act like the cookie I got to know in my dreams, not the characters you come up with to hide behind. If you believed those two things were one and the same, truly, then I would have to ask you to leave.”

Pure Vanilla sweeps out the door, then, with a quiet sigh as the only farewell offered. Shadow Milk lets out an annoyed groan and flops onto the floor, spreading out his limbs like a starfish and glaring at the ceiling. Of course, he makes no move to leave. Pure Vanilla hadn't actually told him to, for one, and even if he had Shadow Milk had already spent too much effort getting here to listen to him.

He tugs the messenger bag from over his shoulder and tosses it carelessly somewhere out of his sight, and then grabs his discarded jacket to bundle it up and place it under his head. He's already got a headache from whatever that little fit of Nilly's was. If he was going to make it through a dinner with His Royal Broodiness, then he'd better get rid of it before then. Especially if he was expected to be, ugh, cordial. So, a nap would be quickest. He doesn't have medicine and he's not leaving the stove for anything.

Chapter Text

His hands are covered in flour, as is the apron he'd spent a few days making. It's rather shoddy, already the seam attaching the neck strap is fraying, but that could also be in part due to the fact that he and Sugar weren't quite being all too careful when they get into their brief arguments. Either way, its condition is nothing he's too happy with. He'd been so proud to show it off today, after all it was something fresh and new, but… well. Perhaps he should stick to knitting. He still hasn't perfected that, really, but it's still currently better than his sewing.

“Too sweet,” White Flour says, pulling apart a rather limp pancake with her fingertips. “And undercooked. I think we should add a little less sugar, for the next batch.”

“You can't ask for less of me, that's a little rude.” Caster Sugar jokes, giggling sweetly before stealing a piece of the runny treat and popping it into her mouth. Immediately her face twists, and she shakes her head. “Oh, no, you're absolutely right. There's such a thing as too sweet, and this is it.”

“The ratio of dry ingredients should remain about the same, though. Should I add more flour then?” Shadow Milk asks, already dumping the rest of the failed batter into the waste bucket. They'd need a second one soon, perhaps. Their efforts have been going on for quite some time. “And perhaps we can curb some of the sweetness with a touch more salt. It's necessary for the crust to brown properly, but I'm not too sure it won't help the taste.”

“You know best!” Caster Sugar chirps sweetly, tilting her head and grinning brightly. “I think more flour is a definite, though. The batter was quite runny.”

“We should remember to sift it. It'll add more air into the batter, and you said you wanted the pancakes to be fluffy.” White Flour says, standing to scrape the mistake of a pancake she'd been dissecting off of the plate and into the waste. She wipes her hands off on a towel Shadow Milk offers to her, and her smile is small, but present. “And be more patient before flipping them. The thicker they are, the longer they will take.”

“Yes, yes, you are oh-so wise, my dear.” Shadow Milk responds with a roll of his eyes, snickering and ducking to avoid the towel she swats at his head. Her laugh, as quiet as it is, still sounds wondrous every time. It's so very rare, after all, just as getting her off her mountain was. He was so happy she put off her work to see him today. She hardly ever does that. “If it's so simple, why don't you try it?”

“You wanted to learn how to do it.” White Flour responds, though she takes up the spatula and moves back to the stove. The pan is already cleaned, Shadow Milk made sure of that, but it's likely cooled by now. He has been excessively cautious, probably part of why all attempts have been… subpar, to say the least. White Flour doesn't hesitate to light the stove again, chucking another log into its belly and stoking the embers until it catches, carefully hovering her hand over top of it to feel for the heat wafting off of it. It will still take some time, but that's time for Shadow Milk to actually get the batter ready.

“Adding some cinnamon wouldn't hurt, right?” Caster Sugar suddenly appears by his side, and he's barely capable of restraining his flinch. He casts a sidelong glare at her before flicking a pinch of flour at her, ignoring her affronted squawk to focus instead on pouring the right amount of flour into the mixing bowl. It's retribution for earlier, rather. She's the only reason his kitchen is so much of a mess.

“We should hold off on additives until we've gotten the base recipe down.” Shadow Milk responds, grabbing the whisk to begin stirring. Once the dry ingredients are mixed he'll start to add the wets, which if Sugar was doing her job should be ready by now. “You said that cinnamon doesn't really agree with your plants, anyhow.”

“True,” Caster Sugar mumbles, passing him a pitcher of an unpleasant-looking mixture. Even if it may look unpleasant, it's all only necessary things. Milk, eggs, melted butter, and some vanilla extract for flavor. It's absolutely horrid on its own (don't ask) but it's not meant to be. It's only one half of a whole, so of course it's terrible on its own. “The discard isn't going to make good fertilizer as-is, though, I could have made it work.”

“But, you can just as well save yourself the trouble.” Shadow Milk shrugs, checking the consistency of the batter and scrutinizing it for any sign of too-large flour clumps. He has to be careful not to overmix it, so he's extra wary of this step. Thankfully, it looks fine. “Is the stove ready, Flour?”

“Not quite yet.” She responds, and at his ensuing groan she glances at him with a bored frown and a raised brow. “Could you have patience? It'll be ready in mere moments.”

“But I'm hungry, Flour, and we've been at this for hours.” He whines, carrying the bowl of batter over as Caster Sugar takes up the scoop they've been using to pour. White Flour adjusts her stance, bracing herself for the inevitable. Shadow Milk drapes himself against her shoulder, one hand cast over his eyes in dramatic repose. Her tolerance for his play is very thin, but she's indulged him so much today already he can't help but push the bounds.

“None of us need to eat, Blueberry.” White Flour sighs, gently jabbing her elbow (as gently as one can jab, anyhow) into his back. It's enough a cue as any for him to back off and give her her space again. “And this was your idea.”

“Who cares about what we need, eating is good for the soul!” Shadow Milk responds, placing a hand over his Soul Jam and nodding sagely. Caster Sugar drapes herself over his shoulders and nods along, though she can't keep the “sagely” expression he's mastered on her face without nearly breaking into giggles.

“I'd argue eating is a need for us, though! Good food makes for a happy cookie, and would you dare to say it's not a need that all cookies be happy?” Caster Sugar goads, to which White Flour gives a tiny, barely-visible smile as she shakes her head in fond exasperation. “Besides, Blue gets so grumpy when he doesn't eat for too long.” She pinches and squishes his cheeks, inciting him to tug himself out of her hold and to whirl on her with a glare. “See? Grumpy.”

“Caster,” White Flour gently chides, a soft spoken warning before she reaches for the scoop and hefts a decent portion of batter into the hot pan. “Blueberry, you both could learn some sense of decorum.”

“But if we ever did, what would you have left to occupy you?” Caster Sugar teases, wings fluttering softly before she tucks them behind herself. “Don't worry, dear Flour, I know better than to act so childish around our precious mortals. I'm only like this in private!”

“Now that's blatantly untrue.” Shadow Milk scoffs, raising a hand to his ear with a wince. There's a slight buzzing, or maybe a ringing? An odd sound, in any case, and one his friends clearly aren't hearing. Caster would have complained if she had heard it, she's not the sort to let annoyances slide off her feathers so easily. Not around the other Virtues, in any case. She does restrain herself in more public settings. Just not to the extent she's claiming. “Don't you need to flip it now?”

“Patience, in due time.” White Flour responds, carefully pointing with the edge of the spatula. “You know how to do this. I do not see what your issue is.”

“The waiting.” Caster Sugar and Shadow Milk say simultaneously, sharing a glance and a snicker at White Flour's tired sigh. “What's it matter if it's a little underdone? It'll still taste fine. We can't get sick, anyways.” Sugar continues, though this is where Shadow Milk disagrees.

“The feeling is terrible, though. I don't want to eat slime.” Shadow Milk responds, sticking his tongue out in disgust. The ringing in his ear gets sharper, a little clearer too. It's… less a ringing, more an… echoing voice…? Perhaps? Indistinct words, in any case. “And don't you dare imply it's anything like a thick pudding, the two textures are very different!”

“Well, so far they'd be more like a runny custard than a pudding.” Caster Sugar responds, placing a dainty finger on her chin and humming thoughtfully. Shadow Milk makes an affronted noise, opening his mouth to spew an argument that would inevitably lead to her tossing more flour over his head, but that voice comes back. It's almost clear…

“Blu…? Sha……lk, …….Milk,”

It's… familiar, but… not in any recognizable way. He pauses, drawing himself back, lifting his feet from the ground and floating up as he tilts his head to listen more intently.

“Blue? Are you quite all right?” Caster Sugar asks, and he gives a noncommittal hum in response. Her voice is fainter, actually. And… the edges of the walls are fuzzier. Or, no, not just the walls… everything. His limbs start to feel heavy, and his eyes ache, but… that's strange. He can't really… think beyond that…

“Shadow Milk!”

Shadow Milk jerks upright, blinking wildly as his vision slowly readjusts. At first, he doesn't realize where he is. Unfamiliar walls, unfamiliar decor, and yet an all-too familiar cookie holding a hand on his forehead with a pained expression. Shadow Milk stares, for a moment, before his own head starts to throb and he can't restrain his own wince. Ow.

Guess he… must have hit Pure Vanilla pretty good, there. He hisses as he rubs at his head, still trying to take stock of the situation at hand. Dreams of memories that old had a tendency to disorient him for some time after waking, and that one had been especially vivid. He really hates sleeping.

“S-sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” Pure Vanilla says. Shadow Milk glares at him half heartedly, only to be forced to close his eyes as a healing light pours over him. The throbbing of his head eases, as do a number of the aches he'd gained both from walking so much already and from sleeping on the ground. Okay. Fine. He may be forgiven for the abrupt and rude awakening, just this once. It's only a brief reprieve for most of his ailments, but he'll take what he can get. “Are you all right?”

“Just peachy,” Shadow Milk grumbles, rubbing at his eyes with a stifled yawn. “That was your fault, just so you know.”

“I had assumed.” Pure Vanilla offers a flicker of a smile, slightly amused, but his brow still furrows with concern. The sight makes Shadow Milk want to scoff, but he's not awake enough to do much more than stare blankly at Pure Vanilla. He's… oh, right. They're in the Dark Cacao Kingdom. Pure Vanilla was here because… “I really am sorry. You were sleeping remarkably heavily, I didn't expect you to wake so suddenly.” Right. They're supposed to be joining Dark Cacao for dinner. He's here to make sure Shadow Milk doesn't skip.

“You were trying to wake me up, and you didn't expect it to work?” Shadow Milk glares at him again, lip curling. Pure Vanilla sighs, seemingly already tired of him. As he should be, right? Should have just left him be. He'd sleep through the dinner and deal with the consequences then. It's the better option for all parties. He had even said he wouldn't be bothering with Shadow Milk anymore, so Shadow Milk really didn't get why he was even here.

“I didn't expect you to jolt upright like you've been electrocuted.” Pure Vanilla clarifies, which makes a bit more sense. Truthfully, he doesn't know why he'd reacted like that. He hadn't been startled when Pure Vanilla woke him up. Not exactly, anyhow. It had been a surprise to be woken up by someone else, but that's not something startling. Just unusual. New.

Shadow Milk waves him off, falling onto his back once again and closing his eyes. He's not serious about going back to sleep, he doesn't want whatever lingering memories that may exist to trawl after him, but he hates whatever this exchange is. He's awake, he'll end up going to the stupid dinner because that's what a polite guest would do, but he wants Nilly to leave him alone for however long he's got before he absolutely has to be there. “Whatever. Still your fault.”

Pure Vanilla gently pokes his shoulder. “Shadow Milk. You can't make Dark Cacao wait for us, we're already late.” At another poke to his shoulder, Shadow Milk pries open one eye to peer up at Pure Vanilla with clear disdain.

“Why keep your dear friend waiting? I'll go to the stupid dinner, just— leave me alone.” Shadow Milk rolls over so his back faces the ancient, curling up into a ball and feeling his hair writhe like drowsy snakes. If the shadows in the room have dimmed, he can not tell. The only light he'd had lit before he first closed his eyes had been the stove, and that seems to have gone out a long time ago. Judging by the chill settling into his dough, anyhow, but he's adjusted to it. It's not so different from the spire, really, he was just being fussy before.

Dramatic, as Pure Vanilla had said, isn't that right? Ha. As if that were an endearing trait, too. Perhaps Shadow Milk placed too much stock in Pure Vanilla's words once again, clearly that had to have been a lie. A joke. Ha! A funny, funny, soooo so so funny joke.

Shadow Milk flinches when he feels the brush of fingers on his shoulder, gritting his teeth at the involuntary reaction. He was better than this. Just what was his problem?!

Pure Vanilla's hand retreats, which is a good thing. A good thing. It shouldn't stab his chest with needles, shouldn't worsen his already dour mood, shouldn't make waking into this horrid scenario any worse than it already was. Yet Shadow Milk can lie about a great many things, he can't lie away the ache he feels when reminded how utterly, utterly alone he is.

Scratch that. Irrelevant. Fake.

It was a lie.

Pure Vanilla sighs, soft and disappointed, and Shadow Milk hears him stand. His hair twists, just enough to allow an eye or two to follow the healer's movement, though he doesn't initially intend to. Pathetic. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. Even when he knows better he can't help looking. All for what? To watch the old fool leave him behind? He doesn't want to see that, and yet he can't turn his eyes away.

“I was worried, when I heard you weren't answering your door,” Pure Vanilla starts. He adjusts his grip on his staff, awkwardly half-turned away from Shadow Milk, as if he wasn't sure where to be directing its vision. “I thought, for a moment, that you had decided to leave. That my words earlier had been misunderstood, or…” he trails off for a moment, and there is a noticeable pause before he shakes his head and clears his throat again. “Dark Cacao was very understanding when I expressed that I wished to check on you myself, so I'm certain he won't mind if we take a few minutes more.”

We…? Shadow Milk curls his fists tighter, drawing further into himself.

“I was happy to see you were still here, just sleeping. However… for a cookie who does not require it, you were quite deeply asleep. So the worry returned, just for a different matter.” Pure Vanilla continues on, opening his eyes and looking down at Shadow Milk's pathetic form with an unreadable, yet unmistakably gentle, expression. “Was your dreaming unpleasant…?”

The question is spoken with no hesitance, Pure Vanilla is never so tactful. Still, there's a consideration in how it's posed. Not, did you have a nightmare, nor a would you tell me what bothers you, nor even an are you okay. A yes or no question, open for Shadow Milk to answer as he wishes, with elaboration or without.

Shadow Milk expects it to burn, to scald him and cut like a blade with a dull edge, jagged and painful. Pity is not something he appreciates, and from Pure Vanilla it's always been more intolerable than even his most annoying habits. The very last thing he ever wants to receive is pity, and so the question and its gentle presentation should enrage him to no end.

But he finds himself incapable of adding that feeling to his miasma of emotion, today. Any attempts to light that flame snuffs itself out before he can truly grasp it. It's a strange experience, to be sure. Anger was always such an easy emotion, harder to avoid than to use, and he's never had to work to bring it to the surface before. It's harder to restrain it, to muzzle it and keep it from surfacing, and it's always been ever-present. He can not remember a day he wasn't angry, whether at the world or circumstances or just whatever cookie had the misfortune of coming across his path.

And yet, despite this, he can not find any anger. Pain, sure. Misery, undoubtedly. But anger?

“Of course it wasn't, I don't dream.” Shadow Milk responds, voice muffled, but clear enough to a cookie like Pure Vanilla. “Not on my own, in any case.”

Pure Vanilla tilts his head, frown prominent on his expression. He is quiet for a moment, thoughtful. “Are you upset with me, then?” He asks, because of course that's the conclusion he comes to. He can't see any clear reasons for Shadow Milk to be so sour other than their parting words earlier, so it's automatically his fault. Stupid.

It's stupid Shadow Milk cares, too, but it's stupid for Pure Vanilla to think such in the first place. Doesn't he know he's talking to a liar? He's not that much of a fool.

“No. But I will be if you keep asking stupid questions like that.” Shadow Milk uncurls enough to turn his head, look at Pure Vanilla directly. “Why are you still here. You can't keep your host waiting.”

“And yet you can?” Pure Vanilla asks, corners of his lips twitching up for a moment. “But, as for why I'm still here, it's not simply because I want you to attend this dinner. Frankly, if you aren't feeling well enough, I'd rather you prioritize yourself. I'm here because you are dear to me, and I want you to enjoy your time here as much as you can.”

Shadow Milk doesn't have a response for that. Not enough of one to be worth saying, in any case. But it's clear to him by now that Pure Vanilla isn't leaving, not until the “problem” is solved, even though it'll make him late for the oh-so-important dinner he'd been so eager to drag Shadow Milk into. Even though there is no problem.

Shadow Milk sighs, pushing himself to sit up and looking up at Pure Vanilla with a blank stare. “Get out. I need to change.” Pure Vanilla watches him carefully, thoughtfully, before he cracks a soft smile.

“You don't need to push yourself for me.” Pure Vanilla offers, which Shadow Milk only scoffs at once again.

“Since when do I do anything for you? I'm doing this so you stop pestering me.” Shadow Milk responds, rising into the air for a moment before remembering he's meant to walk. Once his feet touch the ground again he scowls, pushing Pure Vanilla by the shoulders to turn him and shove him towards the door. “Out, out! Five minutes, and I'll be ready.”

“You really don't have to–” Shadow Milk reaches with his magic to swing the door open and shove Pure Vanilla through. It slams shut behind him immediately, loudly, and Shadow Milk lets out a tired sigh as he slumps against it and tangles a hand in his hair.

Well, then.

Guess he'd better get ready for dinner with Mystie's other half. Certainly, he only regrets this trip with every second more.

Chapter Text

“You look rather dashing,” Pure Vanilla says. Shadow Milk doesn't even look at him, choosing instead to just roll his eyes as he pulls the door shut behind him.

“I know,” Shadow Milk responds, allowing Pure Vanilla to take his hand again to lead him through the halls. “Even if I could care less, any mortal cookie would dress their best to meet with royalty. I play my roles well, thank you.”

Thus, ensuring his hair was smooth and styled with not a hair out of place, half pulled into a bun held by a pretty star-shaped hairpin, and ensuring his shirt and waistcoat were neat, properly accessorized with silver lapels and an opalite brooch. It is also, partially, a practice of look put together, be put together. His terrible state of being is well hidden behind this mask.

“Hm,” Pure Vanilla responds, his grip tightening for a brief moment. “But I thought you weren't playing a character? If you truly don't care, then–”

“Gee, Nilly, it's almost like you want me to make a good impression or something!” Shadow Milk says, finally glancing over at Pure Vanilla. Though really, only to jab a finger at the side of his head. “Don't nitpick, doll. I need something to carry me through this dinner.”

Pure Vanilla lets out a quiet chuckle, but it comes off a little too awkwardly to be very genuine. “I wish you wouldn't strain yourself. I mean it sincerely, my dear, if you aren't well enough I'm sure–”

“Pure Vanilla Cookie?” Shadow Milk interrupts, tone overly light and sweet, smile too-wide as he forces the both of them to come to a stop. Pure Vanilla pauses, facing him with the most adorable look of confusion on his face, which quickly turns into surprise as Shadow Milk proceeds to flick him between his eyes, sickly saccharine grin falling into a scowl. “I'm fine. My reputation precedes me, I know, but you can't make me do anything if I don't want to. If I am attending this dinner, it's not because you asked.” Not solely, in any case.

Pure Vanilla holds the new sore spot on his face, opening his eyes to watch Shadow Milk from between his fingers, and the sight is enough to alleviate a tiny fraction of Shadow Milk's sour mood. “Was that truly necessary?” Pure Vanilla asks with a sigh, though when his hand falls back to his side his eyes and smile look as fond as ever. Even if slightly annoyed, as well.

“You think too highly of yourself. I can't stand watching you carry on like that, so stop assuming you're the only reason I'm here.” Shadow Milk shrugs flippantly, palms to the ceiling for a second before falling back to his sides. Only briefly, however. Pure Vanilla tilts his head, taking up Shadow Milk's hand again and gently holding it between them. “I don't believe in your idea, it's stupid and ridiculously, delusionally optimistic, but… if it means none of us have to suffer that stupid, infernal tree again…” Shadow Milk continues quietly, glancing away and shaking his head with a weak scoff. “I'll at least prove to you it won't work before I dismiss it.”

“In that case, I will prove to you it will.” Pure Vanilla says, his steadfast determination almost seeming to make him glow. Or perhaps he really was glowing again, Shadow Milk couldn't quite tell if he could control that little quirk of his new strength. “We could call it our new game?” Pure Vanilla offers, eyes crinkling with sweet affection as he presses their entwined hands to his chest, just under his sweetly humming Soul Jam, incidentally drawing Shadow Milk closer.

“Is this one you'll expect a prize for, too?” Shadow Milk asks with a raised brow, though he's not really opposed to it. After all, this is a “game” he's certain to win. Not that it's a game at all, really. More a bet, but that's not as fun to say. “I gotta say, never expected you to propose a game to me. For once you've managed to surprise me!” Shadow Milk narrows his eyes as he smiles, displaying sharp fangs for only a brief moment. “Though is now really the best time for this? We have a dinner to get to.”

Pure Vanilla blinks, smile falling as his grip on Shadow Milk's hand loosens, before he gasps and his cheeks dust in a pretty little blush. “Right! I– it– it completely slipped my mind, ha.” Pure Vanilla pulls away again, covering his mouth with his hand, turning slightly as if to hide his face. Shadow Milk can't help snickering at his misfortune, patting his arm in a manner only slightly condescending.

“Well, can't wallow in embarrassment forever, Nils! We're late as is, aren't we?” Shadow Milk teases, looping his arm with Pure Vanilla's. It's marginally less embarrassing than being led by the hand like some errant child, after all, and while being tugged along was fine when he would float along with ease, it was only a pain when on foot.

“That's… not my fault.” Pure Vanilla argues, face darkening even further when he whips his head around to direct his pout at Shadow Milk. Frankly, it's a lovely sight. Makes Shadow Milk just want to squish his cheeks until his head bursts, though that would certainly be impolite.

“Of course it isn't, but it isn't not your fault, either. After all, I don't know where the dining hall is, and you certainly aren't leading me there, now are you?” Shadow Milk responds, which is enough of a kick into gear that Pure Vanilla immediately starts tugging him along again.

It's… manageable. He's not at one hundred percent, but a little amusement goes a long way. At the very least, Shadow Milk can likely manage one dinner. He's an actor of the highest caliber, after all.

In the simplest words, the dinner is a disaster.

Now, it may seem harsh to say such a thing when they're not even done, really they have only just arrived, but it's definitely not a pleasant experience. Their host is all too silent, and conversation is stiff and dull. Shadow Milk had expected this, of course, but not to this extent. Pure Vanilla should have been enough to entertain their host, it was what Shadow Milk had expected of him, but he seems quite content to let be the thick tension in the air and the awkward silence hovering with it.

Shadow Milk sits quite awkwardly to Pure Vanilla's left, slumped in his seat just enough to… well. It's not inaccurate to say he's hiding behind Nilly, but to say hiding implied he was scared or nervous or something. No, really, Shadow Milk's unsteadiness from waking has simply carried over to the present, and that… loose sense of time has made talking a bit more daunting of a task. Just, slightly, mind.

He'd expected more of an audience, frankly. He doesn't remember much of the Dark Cacao Kingdom, back when he could only watch events through Pure Vanilla's eyes for any entertainment he'd determined the frostbitten land and it's stoic king both too boring and plain to be worth paying anymore than the barest amount of attention to, but he'd thought that Dark Cacao had used his meals as additional time for his advisers and court petitioners to address him on matters. Not that Shadow Milk had expected him to let a stranger sit in on such proceedings, even one Pure Vanilla trusts is still a stranger with unknown motivation and it would be quite stupid for Dark Cacao to make those decisions off of Pure Vanilla's good word alone, but he'd still expected there to be more cookies involved. Dark Cacao wasn't a socialite by any means, but he did not think so highly of himself as to be above eating with his servants or guards. From what Shadow Milk could gather, in any case.

But other than Pure Vanilla and himself, there are no other cookies. Not even Black Raisin Cookie is here, even though she's technically with Pure Vanilla's party, and thus should have been invited… actually, instead of sitting awkwardly for another few silent minutes, that might just be the kind of thing he needs to break the silence.

“Where's Black Raisin Cookie?” Shadow Milk asks, not even bothering to be quiet, as the entire point isn't to be quiet. As was predictable, Pure Vanilla flinches, and Dark Cacao raises his head to glare broodily. He's not very expressive, Shadow Milk notes.

It's the first words anyone's said since Dark Cacao accepted Pure Vanilla's excuses and apology for their lateness, which would make more sense if Pure Vanilla wasn't simply pushing his food around the plate and twitching like he has news he's just struggling to share and if Dark Cacao hadn't already finished his plate ages ago. Likely before they'd even arrived. “Haven't seen her since we got here.”

“Oh, she's out with Caramel Arrow Cookie, isn't she?” Pure Vanilla takes the topic like a drowning man catching a life preserver, turning his head towards Dark Cacao as he speaks. At Dark Cacao's nod Pure Vanilla smiles. “They're quite good friends, aren't they?”

“So it seems.” Dark Cacao responds, exhibiting the pinnacle of social skills with a flat tone and an unchanging expression. He wonders how Dark and Broody would feel if Shadow Milk mentioned how much his expressions reminded him of Mystic Flour…? It'd probably be a pretty funny, if imminently deadly, reaction. “And you, Malted Milk Cookie? Do you know Black Raisin well?”

Shadow Milk tilts his head at the question. It's a bit of a non-sequitur, though not too unrelated really. He supposes it's a functional, if inelegant, method to turn the conversation towards this dinners initial purpose. Still, what a bad question.

Pure Vanilla glances down at his plate with a nervous frown, shifting uncomfortably. “Not particularly!” Shadow Milk responds with a smile, shrugging easily. “I just met her, actually. Though Pure Vanilla has talked about her fairly often, so I know what he's told me.”

It's an interesting thing to note, the slight furrowing of Dark Cacao's brow deepening even slighter, his frown twitching from small to slightly less small, such minute differences that tell quite a bit about how he's receiving that information. Whether it's confusion or displeasure is hard to tell, though Shadow Milk personally bets the latter. “I see.” Dark Cacao responds, and that doesn't really clarify the matter. “Then you mustn't have known Pure Vanilla for very long.”

“Longer than you'd think!” Technical understatement, really, but the truth. Shadow Milk has known Pure Vanilla since the moment he touched the Soul Jam, even if their official introductions happened much much later. Either way, Dark Cacao likely thought it was much, much more recent than either of those occurrences. It's best to work with technical truths here, rather than just fulfilling his expectations, given Nilly's ultimate goal with this.

Frankly, Shadow Milk isn't really feeling up to his typical shtick anyhow. Just being here was tiring, coming up with an improvised story about how and when he and Pure Vanilla met was beyond what he had energy for. Thank you, stupid dreams. They certainly are the most helpful. “I'm a very busy cookie, even just exchanging letters with Pure Vanilla is a heavy strain on my excessively cluttered schedule. Meeting every cookie Pure Vanilla has mentioned would be a chore.”

“I imagine the list is long.” Dark Cacao lets out a huff, which might be a laugh. Hard to tell, save the slight upturn of his lips. “But, that said, if you've known Pure Vanilla so long, then how have I never heard him speak of you? Unless I have missed a letter, I couldn't imagine him failing to mention a new friend.”

“I don't have time to write everything in my letters,” Pure Vanilla says, which is as blatant a lie as it gets. Pure Vanilla has trouble shutting up in his letters. Even Shadow Milk knows that. It makes him incredibly easy to mimic writing-wise, and his habit running off on unrelated tangents is even entertaining. That said, he'd have at least mentioned “Malted Milk” by name once, if he'd been a real cookie he was really friends with. As he is not, he has not, and thus lies the issue. “It must've slipped my mind.”

Thankfully, Shadow Milk knows the better answer. One he'd come up with when he'd picked Malted Milk as his guise before they even got here.

“Aw, Nilly, you don't have to lie for my sake!” He coos, clasping his hands together and raising them to his cheek in a cutesy-sappy pose just oozing with insincerity. “Seriously. I'm sure Dark Cacao is a rational man, he could understand that I asked you not to mention me.” Shadow Milk turns back to Dark Cacao with a small chuckle, narrowing his eyes as he places a hand on his chest and haughtily raises his chin. “I'm an actor, and a rather popular one in certain circles. I've had my fair share of unpleasant fans going much too far in their efforts to meet me, so I absolutely hate being talked about. I'm retired, after all, and I wish to live in relative peace while I travel. Doesn't happen if said unpleasant fans figure out I'm regularly in contact with a high-profile figure like Pure Vanilla, so he's been kind enough to keep mum for me.” Shadow Milk raises a finger to his lips, tilting his head with a cheerful hum.

“Ah… yes, that is the case. I hope you take no offense, my friend, but I wasn't sure exactly how much Malted Milk desired to share on the matter…” Pure Vanilla agrees, making good use of his disquieted expression to come off as apologetic. Or perhaps it was just him feeling sorry for going along with the lie, because he's the sort to feel guilty about necessary measures. Likely guilty about this whole matter, actually.

“I assume that would be why you haven't met many in our circle, then.” Dark Cacao accepts that answer easily, because why wouldn't he? He's an overly-cautious man prone to paranoia, hence the fortress on the edge of the licorice sea, so he'd never disregard an excuse that leaned on the matter of security.

“Well, that, and I'm always quite busy. I'm retired from the stage, but I still have quite a part in other roles! Though, again, that's kept rather quiet.” Shadow Milk props his head up with a hand, frowning slightly. “And a lack of interest, but Pure Vanilla can be quite persistent, no? It's what I get, for making a bet without knowing the price,” Shadow Milk sighs.

“You didn't say this was an unreasonable request.” Pure Vanilla responds, lips quirking for a moment as he finally stops playing with his food. Although, he makes no effort to start eating either. Hm. “And you are here, still, so you can't find it too unpleasant.”

“I can complain!” Shadow Milk responds with a pout, crossing his arms and slumping back in his chair with a huff. “You weren't supposed to win that little game, anyhow. I was supposed to be able to laugh at you, when you lost.”

“You're not very good at taking losses, are you?” Pure Vanilla chuckles lightly.

“You mean to say, you lost a betting game to Pure Vanilla?” Dark Cacao interrupts their little back-and-forth, quite rudely might he add, and for once Shadow Milk can actually tell he's confused! It's the most clear expression Dark Cacao has made all day, and hilarious in context.

It's a reasonable question, all things considered. No one would believe Pure Vanilla to be the gambling sort. Though Shadow Milk would argue everyone was the gambling sort, with the right price. That's not quite relevant, though.

“Not a betting game per se,” Shadow Milk starts.

“He gave me three days to find an obscure bit of trivia, and if I managed I could request any singular thing from him. I found what he'd asked of me, and then asked him to accompany me on this trip!” Pure Vanilla says brightly. It's a brilliant showing from him, one of his better lies. Mostly because it wasn't in any part a lie, except for one by omission. Which barely counts, but counts enough.

"If it were a betting game, then it wouldn't be much of a game at all. Luck isn't a skill, and would hardly be impressive," Shadow Milk adds, "But stakes make simple games fun, so of course I added some to a game that would otherwise be pretty boring." Otherwise wouldn't even be a game, really. Just a challenge, and still a boring one at that.

Dark Cacao still looks quite confused, but makes no effort to respond. He seems the type to think over his words really carefully, so his silence must mean he's struggling to find the right ones. He's such a serious fellow, a real dull cookie who takes everything as if it were of the most grave importance, in other words a killjoy. Like dear Mystie, he likely saw no point in things like fun or play, so perhaps he's trying to find the most polite way to say "that sounds stupid" without hurting dear Nilly's feelings.

"Ah, you asked before, how I met Malted Milk?" Pure Vanilla says quickly, likely sensing they were losing Dark Cacao just as Shadow Milk had. This doesn't just intrigue Dark Cacao; Shadow Milk finds himself curious what Pure Vanilla is planning to say, as well.

Not the truth, for certain. Even if he wanted to tell his friends the truth, Shadow Milk has firmly vetoed that. Pure Vanilla will lie and trick when he deems it necessary, but not to intentionally harm his friends. He wouldn't go behind Shadow Milk's back… not so obviously, in any case. He'd at least wait until Shadow Milk wouldn't hear about it. He, after all, does have a brain. Even if he doesn't use it nearly as much as he should.

"Yes, although you said you couldn't answer," Dark Cacao responds. "I assume it's upon Malted Milk's request, for the same reasons you failed to mention him before."

"Yes, well, I can't say much, still." Pure Vanilla clasps his hands together and places them in his lap with a quiet sigh. "Though, I can say that it was through one of his games. It was… Certainly an experience." Pure Vanilla's smile turns strained. "His idea of a challenge is at odds with most cookies. He, ah, doesn't think much of fairness, either."

"That's a charitable way to put it," Shadow Milk drawls, rolling his eyes. "I'd take more offense, I had put quite a lot of effort into that, but you have no reason not to say exactly what you mean, here. I wanted you to lose, and I didn't hide it. By all means, if you didn't cheat, I would have won."

"I wouldn't call it cheating. Bending the rules you outlined, perhaps, but you seemed quite delighted with the ends. Ah, unless you are referring to the finale, in which case, I would say that it would only have been cheating if you hadn't given me the means." Pure Vanilla smiles, as if this is a topic worth smiling over. As if the way their time in the spire ended didn't still chafe against Shadow Milk's sensibilities, as if it really were a settled matter.

Though, he supposes it is. Pure Vanilla got the prize he'd asked for, and Shadow Milk has ended any attempts to correct that intolerable conclusion. By all means, it's been done and far from either of their thoughts for some time. Can Shadow Milk truly say it bothers him anymore? … Perhaps not entirely, but he wasn't known for being truthful. He certainly doesn't think of it positively, though. "And you don't seem to hold it against me."

"One day, perhaps." Shadow Milk hums, shaking his head slowly. "And you don't seem to enjoy the dinner our gracious host provided, I see." Pure Vanilla immediately startles, glancing down at his untouched plate with wide eyes before laughing meekly.

"I simply got distracted, my apologies." He says, dipping his head to Dark Cacao before taking up his fork to eat. Only small bites, picking at the quite average sized serving as if it was a mountain of food he found insurmountable, but eating. Better than nothing.

"Would you answer if I asked why you had set out to make a game like that? I imagine there's no challenge in rigging the outcome, and you've implied such a thing would be boring, in your mind." Dark Cacao asks, his attention turned to Shadow Milk entirely, now that Pure Vanilla was finally nibbling at what passes for a fine meal in this miserable place. Although Shadow Milk does have to hand it to the chef, it takes real skill to turn such bitter ingredients into something with complex and tolerable flavor. Not that he couldn't have done better, not to mention it was a bit on the overdone side, but still. Adequate.

In any case, Shadow Milk turns Dark Cacao's question in his mind for a moment. It's a simple answer, but not one present company would appreciate any. "It wasn't unwinnable, clearly. And the point was…" Shadow Milk paused. "To teach a lesson, I suppose? Or, a better way to put it, it was an argument we had over our world views given tangible form. The only way to win was to play by my rules, perfectly, and thus give up on the mindset Pure Vanilla had upon entering the game. So if he won, he lost his morals, and if he lost, it proves my point. It was to set him up to fail, in any case, whether his terms or just the terms of the game." Not really, obviously the point was to make Pure Vanilla suffer up until the inevitable end where Shadow Milk cast away the thief and reclaimed his rightful dues, but then it was more interesting once Pure Vanilla showed capability to understand. Shadow Milk happened to be a curious cookie, so of course when Pure Vanilla reacted in a way he hadn't expected he had to see exactly how far he could be pushed. It turned out, very far, and yet still he was able to return to the hope and light Shadow Milk had sought to snuff out. It had been a mistake to continue on beyond the original scope of his plan, and a mistake to choose to keep Truthless Recluse beyond the end goal, although to this end? It can't be counted as a regret Shadow Milk has, not entirely.

"That doesn't sound so much like a game." Dark Cacao responds, narrowing his eyes in scrutiny before glancing at Pure Vanilla with, once again, confusion. Likely because it comes off as a terrible way to meet someone you purport a friend, but what did Dark Cacao expect of dear old Nilly, really? He believes in more than second chances, thirds and fourths and beyond, the inherent goodness in cookie kind and all that. Par for the course, for Pure Vanilla, to befriend someone directly antagonizing him. He is rather silly that way.

"It's in the past," Pure Vanilla pauses to reassure, though the words clearly don't hit the mark for Dark Cacao. "While I'm sure the topic is something we will always disagree on, we've reached an understanding at the least. It's not that strange. After all, you and I have certainly not agreed on every matter, but that hasn't harmed our friendship any."

Shadow Milk scowls. "Don't turn this into one of your sentimental sap-fests, Nils. You've already made plenty speeches today." Pure Vanilla lets out a small chuckle, as if Shadow Milk isn't being serious. "You're supposed to be eating, aren't you?" He adds snappishly, which only makes Pure Vanilla laugh some more.

Dark Cacao seems to accept that answer of Nilly's, even if he clearly disagrees. He's certainly not warmed to Shadow Milk any, but they manage a… cordial exchange, at the least, as they wait for Pure Vanilla to be done eating. For all that Shadow Milk is "being himself," only taking things half as seriously as he likely should, Dark Cacao is quite a bit more tolerant than he'd expected. It's not unpleasant.

But that's only one dinner, with Shadow Milk too exhausted to be anything but on his best behavior; they had a few more days of this trip left, and he had plenty more time to ruin it. It is practically guaranteed.

Chapter Text

The next day finds Shadow Milk in a significantly better mood, if only because he'd spent his night working on his projects rather than sleeping. No risk of weird dreams, and no seeing dear old Nilly any more than he'd absolutely had to— the ideal way to get through this ordeal, really. Of course, Pure Vanilla had questions when they reconvened in the morning, but those were easy to brush aside. He had a nasty habit of assuming Shadow Milk had problems whenever he did something just the slightest bit off routine, when there were no problems to speak of. Shadow Milk had simply wanted to get started on the costumes for his minions, so that he could make all that he'd sketched out in the past few days.

In any case, Pure Vanilla does not get to question him for very long. The most fortunate thing, really, of pretending to be a mortal cookie, is that it makes Pure Vanilla have to be extra choosy about when and where he pesters Shadow Milk. One slip up, and the entire tower collapses, and it'd be all Nilly's fault. It would not be the first time he wrecks things, but it'd be one of the more disastrous cases given circumstances. Pure Vanilla is forced to give up on that crusade, given the hallways are not incredibly private places.

So Shadow Milk is in quite a fair mood when they stop in the dining hall for breakfast, and not even the fact that it's full of all the cookies that had been missing during dinner could put him off. He's not expected to talk to them, and they don't make any attempts to acknowledge him, and that's exactly as he likes it. Black Raisin is there, as is that Caramel Arrow Cookie Pure Vanilla had mentioned during dinner. He shares a very brief conversation with them, which leads to some fun discoveries.

Namely, the terrifically terrible plan Pure Vanilla has decided to drag him into for the day.

"Really?" Shadow Milk hisses, once breakfast is done and over with and they're free to wander until King Dull-and-boring was ready to drag them out again. Because, according to Caramel Arrow and Black Raisin, Pure Vanilla had made a special request of Dark Cacao.

Pure Vanilla looks no more than simply disappointed his "surprise" got spoiled. No shame, no guilt that he was going to drag Shadow Milk into something so horrifically, repugnantly, egregiously torturous. Just a pitifully sad expression, one that grated on Shadow Milk's nerves.

His shoulders slump as he leads Shadow Milk down the halls, his staff dragging slightly with each step, and if Shadow Milk didn't know better he'd think Nilly was truly that upset. He wasn't. He was playing it up, being dramatic, as he'd say. Shadow Milk has seen a truly sad Pure Vanilla, and this is far from it.

Very succinctly put, it's annoying.

Shadow Milk crosses his arms, shuffling a step farther away when Pure Vanilla realizes that the hand he'd been holding and subsequently the cookie he'd been dragging along is missing and tries to reach for him again.

"Bluebird, it's not going to be as terrible as you believe." Pure Vanilla sighs, giving up on his pathetic act and straightening his posture. "And if it is, then I'll find some way to make it up to you. I can promise that much. I can also promise I will do all that I can to make the experience enjoyable for you."

"Can you tell Dark Cacao I came down with pneumonia and will henceforth be unavailable for any activities you have planned for the rest of the visit?" Shadow Milk snarks, sneering at the annoyed pout Pure Vanilla levels his way. "Thought not."

"It will be good for you—" Pure Vanilla starts to say, but Shadow Milk cuts him off with a scoff.

"In what way is camping in the middle of a sub-zero blizzard going to be good for me?" As if he needed Pure Vanilla to decide what was "good for him" in the first place. Shadow Milk was quite capable of managing himself, and quite content with the way things lie at the moment. Apart from all that, he already hates this stupid place enough just from getting here, what's being outside going to do for him? Kill him, likely. If he didn't know better he'd think perhaps that's what Nilly was after, but no.

No, if anything this was just Nilly being his stupid silly sappy sentimental self and attempting to recreate what was, to him, a nice memory from their time dreaming together.

Ridiculous, of course. Sweet, as far as similar gestures may go, but ridiculous. The only reason that little scene had been tolerable was because it was a dream. Which means, Shadow Milk couldn't feel it. Or certainly, it didn't feel as agonizing as it is undoubtedly going to be in reality—

"The storm should clear for the night, and Dark Cacao had sent for tailors to prepare garments suitable for our expedition already. Besides, it isn't nearly sub-zero conditions." Pure Vanilla counters, seemingly already well-prepared for the argument. Well. At least he's learning, isn't he? Shadow Milk supposes he'd been wrong to think Pure Vanilla is simply dragging him along on another whim; this has been a plan set in place for some time now, or at the least it's a whim he's prepared to defend as if it had been. Actually, the latter is more likely. He didn't invite Shadow Milk along until the day they left, practically, so there hadn't been time to prepare this at all. "If you just try it, you may be pleasantly surprised. Perhaps it's not something you'd ever imagined yourself doing before, but surely you want to know what it's like?"

Pure Vanilla stops, suddenly, a smile one may describe as sly slowly creeping onto his face— though, really, it's less sly and more mischievous, but in the way a kitten may look when faced with a ball of lint. No hint of thought, incredibly nonthreatening, and— that's it. End of thought. "Wouldn't you like to see me fail at setting up a tent again? This time, I won't even have the benefit of it being all a dream to help me. I'll be well and truly relying on my memory and ability alone."

Oooooh, that certainly is tempting. Shadow Milk taps a finger against his forearm as he meets Pure Vanilla's shimmering eyes, pursing his lips as he hums thoughtfully.

Of course, he doesn't much like the idea of watching Pure Vanilla die from hypothermia after rolling into a puddle of mud-slush anymore, but Nilly will have not only his dear friend to correct any major mistakes, but also likely a whole host of other cookies, given Black Raisin had implied the existence of an escort. He can fail, Shadow Milk could have his fun teasing him, and then things will be set right by the more experienced cookies before Pure Vanilla could risk harming even a single pretty hair.

The promise of such delightful entertainment weighed against the utter agony the little escapade will wreak upon Shadow Milk's fragile form is awfully balanced on the scale, but the idea of avoiding the pains of the cold is still winning. Unfortunately, Pure Vanilla knows just how to tip it in his favor.

"I will say I do have a surprise prepared for you, should you choose to attend." Pure Vanilla turns away again, setting off at a slow pace. His hand waits expectantly, offered wordlessly palm up, for Shadow Milk to take it. Undoubtedly, he'd take that as an agreement. "Though, if you'd rather stay here, I will not fault you. I will be going, though, and the surprise would have to wait for another day. Dark Cacao has made too many preparations for us for it all to go to waste, after all."

It's not the idea of a "surprise" in store that makes Shadow Milk groan and stomp over to Pure Vanilla's side again, nor is it the reason why he rather forcefully takes Pure Vanilla's hand with a heated glare leveled his way. Pure Vanilla likely realizes that to some extent, by the way he gives Shadow Milk's hand a reassuring squeeze before bringing it up to his lips and pressing a quick kiss against his knuckles.

If there's a fate worse than freezing out there in the cold, it's rotting from the inside out with boredom being left alone in here. Especially when he would be left with the knowledge that Pure Vanilla was likely having a perfectly pleasant time gallivanting with that old fogy, Dark Cacao. Shadow Milk could not imagine a worse time, actually.

He very easily could, but he means specific to the now, rather.

"Thank you, you will not regret this." Pure Vanilla smiles at him, eyes sparkling so bright that to compare them to the sun would be an insult, and Shadow Milk barely restrains himself from rolling his eyes. He already did regret it, he was pushing his limits enough as-is and the cold tends to seep into joints and turn that ever-present ache into something far more sharp and jagged, he wasn't even sure he'd last the walk to wherever it is they'll be setting camp, but Nilly didn't know that. Didn't, and wouldn't know that. Not if Shadow Milk could help it. "Ah, here it is— this is the room where the tailors will meet us, let's not keep them waiting!"

Shadow Milk did not trust the quality whatever sorry excuse passed as a tailor in this miserable place, but he could always fix whatever they make later. Hopefully, before the expedition. If not, he's sure some subtle magic would do the trick nicely. Just as a temporary solution.

And, of course, he'll burn it all once he gets back to the spire. He hates wearing things other cookies have made. They never do it right.

Shadow Milk will give Nilly this one thing; the jacket the locals had prepared for him is definitely much more suited to the weather than anything he'd ever made. After a bit of mildly pleasant conversation with the tailor who'd made it he manages to gather the techniques that differed, which were more an elaboration on some old methods he'd practically invented— so, technically speaking, still his work. Just an elaboration. It means that recreating such things would be a cinch, and it adds a new item on his list of things he needs to make for his minions. They need sturdy jackets that can withstand a blizzard, after all. It'll be a pain to get the fabric, but he could always just delegate that task to Nilly. After all, he's promised that if Shadow Milk had a terrible time he'd do all he could to make up for it, and Shadow Milk was going to have a bad time.

Not that it's been that terrible, so far anyhow.

The worst of it is over with; the trek out to their camping grounds had taken both quite a bit of time— as should have been expected when they were walking through a flurry only slightly too mild to be called a blizzard— and quite a bit of pain, but Shadow Milk hasn't been expected to take any part in setting up camp. Not by Nilly, anyhow, nor Dark Cacao, though that was likely because of that pragmatism. The rest of their escort don't seem to share the sentiment, but they shy away when Shadow Milk meets their glares and grumbles with an even, if mildly threatening, smile. So he sits, out of the way of the group, with the three cream wolves that had been brought along as monster deterrent; the most ideal place, rather.

As he buries his hands in the thick fur of one of the younger, friendlier, cream wolves, he watches as Pure Vanilla declines Dark Cacao's offer of help setting up his tent. He smiles, dimly amused as Pure Vanilla chooses a spot to start setting up, and ruffles the cream wolf's fur at its demanding little huff. His attention is well and truly divided, between the wolves having their fun with their brief break as their keeper helps set camp and Pure Vanilla's attempts at not making a fool of himself preparing a tent, but frankly the wolves are winning out. Mostly because looking at Pure Vanilla is… slightly embarrassing, at the moment.

While Shadow Milk had been busy getting weather-appropriate clothes from the tailors Dark Cacao had so graciously sent for, Pure Vanilla had left to pack and prepare for the both of them. He'd also used the opportunity to change into suitable clothes he'd already had, though that wouldn't have been notable in-and-of itself. No, the reason it matters is because when Pure Vanilla had dared return, he'd revealed his hand. Because when he returned, he'd been wearing a sweater. Though, not just any sweater. Shadow Milk's sweater. The plain, boring turtleneck Pure Vanilla had plucked from the air when Shadow Milk had been unpacking, as it turns out, had never been put away properly. Instead, Pure Vanilla had stolen it, for whatever reason.

And when confronted, what did he have to say?

"I suppose I simply wanted to wear something you made," Pure Vanilla had said. Utterly infuriating as a statement, embarrassing as an idea, and ridiculously mortifying wholesale.

Needless to say, Shadow Milk has spent about half of their walk ignoring Nilly and his amused and half-hearted attempts at apologizing for the slight, and the other half methodologically breaking down every reason why Pure Vanilla looked utterly horrendous in said sweater. Most of which boiled down to such dark blues not suiting him, which— yes, so, Shadow Milk is quite fine ignoring Nilly now, even if half the reason he's agreed to go on this dumb camping trip had been to mock his poor tent-pitching skills.

The wolves are better company, even if they nipped at his hands when he gave one of them too much attention. He didn't mind it one bit, really; they were quite warm, and cute. And with them as an excuse, no one would notice that his legs were refusing to cooperate with him. So for some time, he only steals the occasional glances Pure Vanilla's way, snickering at the shepherds clear frustration when he could see it, and focuses on keeping the wolves occupied by his attention otherwise.

Up until their keeper is done, and calls them away for their dinner, in any case. Leaving Shadow Milk stranded alone in the snow, fated to freeze as his stupid legs still weren't working. And this time he doesn't have the leverage of a bench to push himself upright again.

"Damn it," He hisses, rubbing his ankle as if that will help any. The aches he's so used to are sharper and far more piercing now, any shift sending a new near-blinding pulse through his legs, but its not important. No, whats important here is keeping up appearances, what's important is not letting Pure Vanilla know there's a problem. So with a frustrated sigh Shadow Milk gives up on convincing his body to obey him and instead begins to gather snow. He fixes a bored expression onto his face and begins to pack snow in lumpy, half-hearted attempts at balls and keeps his eyes down.

He's unaware of how much time passes like this— certainly, not a desirable amount. Between boredom and the threat of the cold snow piercing through his clothes (as even the more suitable ones prepared for this outing could only ever do so much) any time would fall into the category of "too long". That said, he's not exactly happy when the cookie to interrupt his solitude is Pure Vanilla.

"It looks like your arming yourself to face a militia," Pure Vanilla says, amusement rich in his tone as he shuffles through the snow to stand before Shadow Milk. Shadow Milk glances up at him with a raised brow, tossing a misshapen snowball from hand to hand and quietly debating whether it was worth tossing. Pure Vanilla would likely take it as a playful gesture, when it's anything but. Better to hold off, then. "I do hope you aren't plotting something, my dear. Unfortunately your window of opportunity is closed, for the time being. They're preparing dinner this early, while the last dregs of sunlight are still available."

"As if that would stop me." Shadow Milk rolls his eyes, tossing the snowball over his shoulder carelessly and proceeding to dust the snow off his gloves. Not that it does anything for him, but these are the kinds of exercises in futility mortals repeat ad nauseam. It's a useful enough silent signifier for the phrase "I'm done with this, " anyhow.

Pure Vanilla shakes his head in fond exasperation, as has become most common. He finds Shadow Milk trying, yet still finds that in and of itself endearing. Somehow. Shadow Milk will find his limits, eventually. Not today, though, it seems. "I would prefer you would let it, for today. Though, in the morning, perhaps I'd turn a blind eye to your mischief."

"Can you even use that phrase when all you've got are blind eyes?" Shadow Milk mutters, lips quirking upwards despite himself when Pure Vanilla lets out a muffled little laugh. "Though, that's awfully vague, Nilly. Who's to say whatever I was planning was so benign as just dumping a handful of snow over their heads? My mischief is often leagues worse than that."

"Not as of late, though," Pure Vanilla responds. Shadow Milk frowns at the reminder, glaring down at the pile of snowballs beside himself and wondering if he should make use of them regardless of Pure Vanilla's inevitable retaliation. It's not like he could do much else, any movement of his legs aches enough to make him wince, and he's definitely not going to be able to stand any time soon. "If you were to take a step too far, in any case, this would be the worst circumstances to do it. You're intelligent enough to take that into account, so I trust you'll at least practice restraint for the time being."

"I get the sense you're underestimating my capabilities," Shadow Milk says. Though, Pure Vanilla is far more right than he has any means to know. That does irk Shadow Milk, just a smidge. "But fine." Pure Vanilla smiles down at him with a soft glow, warmth enough to melt the snow around him just slightly.

Then, to Shadow Milk's chagrin, he offers a hand. "We should hurry along, my dear. It's awfully cold out, and I'd hate for you to catch a chill." Shadow Milk blinks slowly, staring at the offered hand with visible wariness, though he can't hesitate for long. Otherwise Nilly will realize something was the matter, even though nothing was the matter. Really, as annoying as his legs refusing to function may be, it's merely that. He can manage it, it's not an issue, and not worth the worry and attention he knew Nilly is going to heap upon it.

He knows that with enough leverage he could likely stand, and knows that if he's stubborn enough he can push through the pain enough to at the very least reach the range of the fire. He might not be able to repeat the same feat to get to whichever tent they wish to push him to, but he wasn't going to sleep here anyhow. He can't hold his shape unconsciously, and a tent was so incredibly insecure as a shelter. Anyone could see him, in that state, and then every effort to hide would be wasted! So, he could by all means sit by the fire all night. No problems there.

The alternative is sitting out in the cold snow, in the dark, alone for who knows how long before their escort finally sleeps, if they don't set a night guard to watch for monsters, and who was he kidding? Dark Cacao, that paranoid dunderhead? There was going to be a guard. So, really there's no choice at all in the end. He takes Pure Vanilla's hand, and braces for the sharp pain he knows to expect.

Even being prepared for it, it's dizzying to experience. Like someone took a hot knife to his calves, a cattle prod to his thighs, and pins and needles along the entire length of his legs. He can feel the rush of his jam at the sudden change in position, can feel the two, no, three seconds before his limbs gave. Pure Vanilla quickly rushes to steady him, holding him by the shoulders and anxiously asking what the matter was, until he guided the both of them back down and Shadow Milk was left to gasp in the air he'd forgotten in the wake of the sheer agony.

Right. Okay, so, this was worse than it was in the Hollyberry Kingdom. Damn it.

"Bluebird, are you all right? What happened?" Pure Vanilla frets, still holding Shadow Milk by the shoulders, even as he recovers enough to sit up under his own power.

The ache in his spine is manageable, the soreness in his arms tolerable, but as always those were never his real issue, even if they were just as prevalent. His legs, though the sharp agony has eased back into dull aches and the occasional extra vindictive pang, were the worst of it. Unconsciously his hand moves to his calf to rub at his dough, as if that'd be enough to combat the pain, while his mind whirs quickly with the question of what story can I spin here.

He doesn't want Pure Vanilla to know. Pure Vanilla isn't going to give up on this line of questioning until he does. He really would prefer if Pure Vanilla would refrain from being a nosy irritant for once, but he knows it's not going to happen. So, if there was a good excuse, one that would get Pure Vanilla to stop worrying and stop asking questions and leave Shadow Milk alone, he'd rather that than the truth. Like most lies, it's more palatable.

"Ha!" Shadow Milk grins, wide and filled with gleeful amusement, the script coming together a bit too slow in his mind. But he can make it work. He has to. "Can't believe you fell for that, Nils, oldest trick in the book." Nonsensical or not, his train of thought was hardly ever straightforward, and he's said far less comprehensible things to Pure Vanilla. "You really thought I was hurt! Can't believe it, me, since when do I get hurt?" Shadow Milk cackles some more, but he's quickly cut off by a hand over his mouth.

Pure Vanilla frowns at him, eyes narrowed in scrutiny despite the gesture being useless. Perhaps, it fulfills the purpose of Shadow Milk seeing his ire, but not much else. Whatever. Ire is what he's after, really. "Bluebird, I'm well aware that wasn't anywhere near fake." He says, voice firm and unwavering. He removes his hand from Shadow Milk's mouth before he has the chance to retaliate, and turns his blind gaze down to watch Shadow Milk's half-aware attempts at self-soothing. "How long have you been injured?"

"I'm not injured," Shadow Milk scoffs. At Pure Vanilla's frustrated pout, he decides to be gracious and elaborate. Somewhat. "That's the truth, by the way, nothings more wrong with me than what's always wrong. I'm fine. It's nothing." It's not hiding enough, some might say not hiding anything at all, it's a bit too much, but Pure Vanilla might not be paying attention. He might think Shadow Milk is still harping on the one lie, and think he is injured and just refusing to say. That's still annoying, but it's not as terrible as Pure Vanilla figuring out the truth.

It's pretty much a given that Shadow Milk doesn't believe that one bit because, loathe as he was to acknowledge it, Nilly wasn't a complete idiot. So, of course, Pure Vanilla's brows furrow as he parses Shadow Milk's words, and slowly his eyes widen to an expression that belies a revelation. Exactly what Shadow Milk had hoped would not, and yet knew would most definitely, occur.

"Shadow Milk," Pure Vanilla whispers, sounding pained and oh-so pitying. Shadow Milk's lips curl as he meets Pure Vanilla's gaze with a glare, but the blind fool hardly acknowledges his ire. "Why didn't you say something earlier?" Pure Vanilla frowns, a sheen to his eyes that threatened tears, though that's largely an overreaction. "I never would have been so insistent on this trip if I had known walking pained you! Oh, I should have realized— you've never walked if you could help it, how did I miss such a thing—"

Shadow Milk swiftly flicks his forehead with a sneer, interrupting his little spiral. As if any of this mess is about him! Seriously, how self-absorbed could one cookie be! "I am perfectly. Fine. That's it. End of story. Take your pity party to someone who needs it." Shadow Milk snaps, gritting his teeth.

Pure Vanilla pauses, then, covering his mouth with his hand with that disgustingly pitying look of his, staring at Shadow Milk as if any moment he'd crumble to bits. Ugh.

"Nilly." Shadow Milk says, voice low in warning. Finally, Pure Vanilla tears his eyes away, letting out a breath that may be a sigh or just simply a long exhalation.

"Right. My apologies. You… you hate to be made to feel incapable." Pure Vanilla adds the last part in a mumble as he gently bites a knuckle, eyes downturned. "I understand."

And what bothers Shadow Milk more than the response itself, is that Pure Vanilla did understand that much. Nowadays he's so well known it hasn't affected his treatment much, if it was even something known about him, but Pure Vanilla knows what it's like to be treated like he couldn't possibly be capable in his own right. It doesn't change that there are people in the world that, the moment they learn he's blind, they'll assume it means he needs his hand held for every little thing. Despite all evidence otherwise.

Even so, this is different. This is pain, it's unpleasant to be around and unpleasant to witness, and a real tangible weakness others could see and exploit. Shadow Milk has always had some sort of image to retain, of unflappable spirit and incomprehensible power, he was by all means meant to be strong to the point that believing one could face him directly and win would be mere delusion. And it remains a fact, even if the pain exists, even if his dough is fragile, that he has that sheer strength. But one weakness is a weakness too many, and he's not going to let anyone see it. Especially not Pure Vanilla, who heals hurts and couldn't possibly comprehend that Shadow Milk doesn't want him to even try.

He is not made of glass, he is not as delicate as spun sugar, he does not need to be handled with care. Pure Vanilla is capable of understanding he does not wish to be treated like a child, but he does not know how demeaning it is being treated like he'll break at one wrong brush of a hand.

Pure Vanilla wouldn't have invited him to do this, wouldn't have twisted his arm over the matter, if he had known about Shadow Milk's little issue. That's kind of exactly the problem.

"You can't make me do anything I don't want to do." Shadow Milk begins to say, not entirely consciously. It's a statement he's made again and again, and Pure Vanilla can't seem to comprehend it. "This is the problem with you, Pure Vanilla. You always assume I'm being gracious and kind, following your whims just to indulge you. I'm not that kind of cookie. I am not you. I will not harm myself just to make you happy."

Novel experiences are few and far between. Shadow Milk has never had any reason to break from his expected patterns, possessed no will to do things he believed he'd dislike on his own. Even if this trip was, yes, a pain, and even if this trip was, also, not an appreciated surprise, he wants to experience it. He just also likes complaining.

If this were purely to indulge Pure Vanilla, he'd have found some manner of trick to excuse why Pure Vanilla suddenly had a creature to carry, or something of that manner. He'd have gone ahead and hidden himself in the shadows of Pure Vanilla's cloak and only let his presence be known when they were alone. There are a million different solutions he could come up with, all to avoid the pain attending as Malted Milk has caused, and it was a willful choice not to use any of them.

Whether Pure Vanilla understands this or not, is impossible to tell. Now that Shadow Milk has given just the tiniest slip to reveal his hand, he waits and watches for Pure Vanilla's response. The furrowed brow and the worried frown remains, but he doesn't seem to look so agonizingly guilty anymore. "But you have hurt yourself regardless. Even if you say you'd wanted to do this, I should have noticed your pain. I should have done something to help you."

"You're not my keeper." Shadow Milk spits, crossing his arms petulantly. "And I don't need you to be. I pushed my limits, and I'm experiencing the consequences. I knew this could happen, and I did it anyways. None of that is your business, none of that is your problem. I'm very capable of deciding what I can and can't do, what I will and won't do, and what risks I'll take. I have lived like this longer than you'd been even an idea in the world, Pure Vanilla Cookie. Do you really think I'd appreciate you butting in?"

Pure Vanilla closes his eyes, shaking his head with a small sigh. "I suppose I see your point." He says, smile twitching at the corner of his lips. That was a rather weak joke, but Shadow Milk supposes not everyone could be as naturally funny as himself. "I'll… do my best not to let this color my perception of you. But I do ask that, in the future, you'll let me know how I can best help you. You may be capable of managing on your own, but you do not need to. It doesn't even need to be myself, or another person. You're likely fully aware of the devices made to help cookies like you."

"Yeah, and so is every other cookie on Earthbread." Shadow Milk rolls his eyes. "You think you're the only person I didn't want sniffing out this little secret? I'm not going to signal to the masses that I can't handle taking a few measly steps, Nilly." Shadow Milk glances past Pure Vanilla with tired eyes, drawing back his annoyance so he can plaster on a careless and bored affectation.

"Is there a problem?" Dark Cacao asks as he comes to a stop beside where they're sat. Shadow Milk should have guessed their little tiff was going on too long, that someone was going to start getting concerned that they haven't stood to return yet. Shadow Milk had almost certainly drawn attention when he'd tried to play it off as a trick earlier, he didn't exactly keep his voice down.

Pure Vanilla glances up at Dark Cacao with some surprise, blind eyes blinking dumbly before Dark Cacao handed him his staff back. Pure Vanilla had dropped it when Shadow Milk fell, he supposed. Shadow Milk is surprised he hadn't noticed, although in fairness Pure Vanilla hardly ever held the thing when they were together. "Ah, thank you." Pure Vanilla says, but then glances back at Shadow Milk briefly before closing his eyes again. "There's… no problem."

It's a weak lie, even for Nilly. Dark Cacao narrows his eyes and looks to Shadow Milk for answers, raising a brow. It's a shocking day when Shadow Milk is the one cookies look to for the truth. "We're having a disagreement. I twisted my ankle and Nilly wants to waste his time healing it when it's not even a sprain."

"I'm sure it wouldn't be a hassle to indulge him, this once." Dark Cacao responds with a tired sigh. "I'm sure you know how stubborn Pure Vanilla can get over any hurt. You may not be injured now, but if you're not careful the frost will seep into your dough, and that will be damage that'd take some time to heal."

"A fair point." Shadow Milk smiles, though it drips with bitter humor. "You sound all too used to his fretting. He's always been like this, then?" Shadow Milk knows it, he's seen it, but Pure Vanilla's expression when he realizes that Shadow Milk's poking fun at him is just too funny.

"It's his defining trait," Dark Cacao states. "I'd be more concerned a day he didn't drop everything to heal something as small as a splinter with the same urgency he would a deadly wound." Shadow Milk lets out a short laugh at that, actually managing to drag his mood out of the gutter for it. Ah, dry humor, intentional or not, has always been one of his favorites. Though, White Flour still had Dark Cacao beat on that front. She had been a riot.

"Most would consider it rude to talk about someone who is right beside you." Pure Vanilla huffs, leaning his weight against his staff as he rises to his feet, dusting off the snow with one hand once he was up. "Perhaps I shouldn't heal you, after all." He adds, pouting as he turns his nose up. It's a gesture Shadow Milk would think uncharacteristic of him, but very familiar regardless. All that's left is the tossed hair, and it'd be a mirror of Shadow Milk's own haughty fits.

Aw, he's copying him. Rather poorly, but it was still rather cute. In the pathetic sort of way.

"I thought you liked the truth, Nils." Shadow Milk grins, snickering to himself as Pure Vanilla just turns his head away more pointedly. "Either way works out for me, you know. I can walk off a little ache."

Pure Vanilla glances at him again with a frown, before sighing and relenting. His staff begins to glow brighter, and he taps it against the ground just once. Immediately, Shadow Milk feels the healing light roll over him. It eases the ache just slightly, but enough to be manageable. It'll come back quick enough, but it should last until he can make it to the fire. Dark Cacao offers him a hand up, and Shadow Milk accepts it before he can think twice.

"There you go, Nilly. You helped." Shadow Milk says as he busies himself with dusting off the snow. Pure Vanilla tilts his head, humming softly, disbelievingly. It's what he asked for, though. Sure, Dark Cacao gave him the necessary motivation to make the request, but the aches fading enough so that he may walk again was more ideal than sitting in the snow all night. He doesn't exactly plan on asking Pure Vanilla to do it ever again, he really doesn't like the temporary relief as it makes the returning pain feel so much worse even if he knew it really wasn't, but it's a better idea than anything else he had at the moment. "So, anything else you needed, Dark Cacao?"

That's probably a really informal way to refer to him, one that'd earn him an elbow to the side from a number of his acquaintances past and present, but Dark Cacao doesn't seem to care. Or maybe he's already lowered his expectations the right amount. Either or. "We're distributing rations, but Caramel Arrow and Black Raisin have went out to forage for stew ingredients. I understand that not every cookie can stomach such bitter food."

"I'll have to thank her for saving my life," Shadow Milk grimaces, thinking of what passes as "rations" for the Dark Cacao Kingdom. He can't imagine it being anywhere good. It does make him quite curious, though. Maybe he should try it, just to see how terrible it is…

"You should take over the cooking, if she's gathering ingredients. Save her the labor!" Pure Vanilla cheerily, if a little too quickly, interjects. He links his arm with Shadow Milk as the three of them join the group at the fire again, already preparing a pot for stew. Shadow Milk glances at him with a raised brow, but shrugs.

"You can just say you want to try my cooking again. I won't fight you over that. I'm not going to deny myself the opportunity to show off my culinary genius." Shadow Milk raises his head haughtily, grin sharp with pride. He'll take the chance for what it was, he does so enjoy getting praised for his passions. Pure Vanilla may only have underwhelming reactions to offer, but they're good enough for now.

"With speech like that, someone may assume you were a chef rather than an actor." Dark Cacao says, drawing Shadow Milk's attention as Pure Vanilla's grip tightens slightly. "Your boasting isn't a very flattering trait."

"I could be an actor and know how to cook, you know. It's not like we don't need to eat." Shadow Milk responds flippantly, rolling his eyes. "And I wouldn't call it boasting, merely fact. I'm the best chef in all of Earthbread, anyone who's tried my cooking can attest!"

"I doubt that." Is the only reply Dark Cacao offers, and his lips quirk up just slightly at Shadow Milk's offended squawk. But before Shadow Milk could retort, or insult him, Dark Cacao is drawn away by one of his soldiers offering a report on the scouting mission for monsters in the area. One could not say he was inefficient, making use of this camping trip in this way. Shadow Milk will give him credit where it's due.

"You both seem to be getting along quite nicely…" Pure Vanilla muses, though he doesn't sound too keen on the idea. Isn't the whole point that they're meant to get along? Maybe he thinks Shadow Milk is being disingenuous. He'd be right, partially, but still. He shouldn't get so judgy when he's made it clear that snide comments and "rude" behavior was going to result in Shadow Milk getting formally uninvited.

Seriously, he's so sensitive! Shadow Milk can call him a senile idiot to his face and he'll simply laugh it off, but the same words about his friends are apparently intolerable! Shadow Milk can't understand the logic there, really.

"In small doses, he's tolerable enough." Shadow Milk responds with a shake of his head. "Can't say more than that, else you'll throw a fit." Though perhaps the grin Shadow Milk speaks with tells Pure Vanilla that he's not being quite so serious.

"I suppose I'll have to settle for that." Pure Vanilla sighs, but whatever he'd gotten in his head to be so sour about is apparently settled by that half-effort answer. Shadow Milk finds that he doesn't understand the exact whys, which is mildly annoying, but so long as Nilly isn't chasing him out with a scathing rebuke he'll just accept it. No point in questioning everything, even if not knowing the answer irks him.

He doesn't need to think about it too much, anyhow. Black Raisin and Caramel Arrow make their return at that moment, and so he slips from Pure Vanilla's reach to talk them into letting him handle the cooking. It goes smoothly, it seems they're eager to let someone else handle it given foraging in these conditions is a pain and a half, so he doesn't hesitate to get started.

Once again, he notices Pure Vanilla watching him cook. That small smile is there, the one much too fond to level at a Beast, and Shadow Milk makes a real effort to ignore it. He doesn't know what Pure Vanilla is so smiley about, anyhow. Shadow Milk is only cooking, nothing more. That's not something worth the attention. Though Shadow Milk won't correct him for it. He likes the attention, regardless.

Chapter Text

"Certainly not." Shadow Milk drawls, lip curling as he stares daggers at Pure Vanilla. The firelight does not do much to illuminate him, but Shadow Milk can read his expression clear enough at least. It helps that snow is rather reflective. The only thing that's keeping Shadow Milk from reacting with more hostility is that much; Pure Vanilla doesn't look quite happy with the matter, either.

"It's your only choice, if I may be so blunt." Pure Vanilla responds, shaking his head. "Truly, I must apologize, but I couldn't convince Dark Cacao otherwise. That he's allowed this compromise is… related to another matter." Pure Vanilla grimaces, color lightly dusting his cheeks as he turns his head away rather awkwardly. "Which I hesitate to elaborate on. In any case, he didn't prepare enough supplies to allow you a tent to yourself. I don't purport to know exactly how your 'costume' works, but I assume his preferred arrangement of four-to-a-tent would be a hassle."

He's right. But that doesn't mean he's forgiven. "Can't you just leave me the tent then?" Shadow Milk argues.

"This was the compromise he proposed. He'd allow you and I to share a tent between ourselves, and leave two others with only three cookies per. It was the best I could manage." Pure Vanilla ducks his head. "Resources can be scarce, here, and using supplies inefficiently frustrates him to no end. The winds can tear a tent if they get poor enough, and despite the predicted fair weather he's one for caution. No more than what's absolutely necessary, he's said. He'd rather repair three tents than four."

Shadow Milk can understand the logic. He does understand the logic. It still frustrates him to no end.

The last thing he wants is to share a tent with dear Nilly. Especially given their already shared dreams, which means there'd be no reprieve from Pure Vanilla's presence to be found. Not that Shadow Milk even could sleep; anyone could stumble into the tent and see his sleeping form is not that of Malted Milk's. The reaction to that blunder would be significantly worse with Nilly in the tent with him.

Yet, Shadow Milk doesn't exactly have much of a choice. He will only truly heal if he rests, and he can't have Nilly pausing to heal him every mile or so as they hike back to the fortress. That'd make his frailty obvious to anyone!

"I can set a barrier around the tent, it's expected of me even. Dark Cacao knows my travelling habits. Changing the barrier to disallow other cookies shouldn't be very suspicious, either, given what I've argued already," Pure Vanilla adds. Shadow Milk hates that he's able to guess at these concerns so accurately. "It's only one night, Bluebird. I'll relent if you can find a better solution, but please. If you stay out any longer you'll freeze."

And, given the sizable pile of snow over his shoulders, that is yet another truth Shadow Milk must begrudgingly acknowledge. Black Raisin had already retired to her tent, for much the same reason. Cookies unused to the cold could not handle it as well as the cookies who grew in it, and the tents were prepared with their own little wood stoves to keep them nice and warm. There's only so much a campfire can do once the sun goes down, without cloth walls to keep the heat from escaping into the ether. Most of their escort were only still up because Dark Cacao was still up, and he was only still up because Pure Vanilla was still up, who was only… you get the picture.

Shadow Milk has to relent. Most of his concerns were covered, there's no other solution other than fighting with Dark Cacao directly and Shadow Milk is in too much pain to have the energy to be more stubborn than King of the Brood, and really Pure Vanilla is likely the best person he could be forced to share a tent with. He doesn't have to like it, but he has to concede.

"Fine," he hisses. Pure Vanilla's relieved sigh and smile is cut off when Shadow Milk jabs a finger into his face, right between his eyes. "But I'm not sleeping just to see your stupid face in my dreams. You're having nightmares tonight, and you'll just have to deal with it."

Pure Vanilla blinks dumbly for a moment, the harshness of Shadow Milk's glare and the venom in his tone doing nothing to concern him. When the words do register, though, Pure Vanilla frowns with the saddest looking eyes he's managed thus far. "If that's what you'd prefer…" he sighs. It's, nearly, enough to make Shadow Milk take the words back— but, no. His resolve is too firm for that, this time.

"It's just one night," Shadow Milk mockingly echoes, sneering as Pure Vanilla raises his head again. "You can't complain, anyhow. You have me in your tent in reality, it's just a smidge greedy to crave my presence in your dreams too, isn't it?"

Pure Vanilla tilts his head, before he smiles again. The color on his cheeks remains a gentle, but seemingly permanent, fixture Shadow Milk can't help but be confused by. Is the cold finally getting to him, too? Explains why he'd been so insistent. "I suppose you are right. Perhaps having you near me will be enough to give me pleasant dreams, as well." Pure Vanilla closes his eyes again, standing as he takes up his staff again. "Certainly, no one could say there's not a chance for it."

Shadow Milk takes Pure Vanilla's offered hand and, with a tap of the staff and a subtle healing spell, he is pulled to his feet. "I can say that with certainty. Nightmares don't work like that." Though, perhaps they do. Sleeping with a plush had, temporarily, staved off Shadow Milk's own unpleasant dreaming when he'd tried it. Perhaps Candy Apple's method had true merit. Hm.

He wonders how she's faring… hopefully, she's not too upset by his absence this time. She has Black Sapphire, anyways. She's not alone. They have eachother, and they know when he'll return. They have an entire spire filled with entertainment and sapient constructs to play with, and a garden if things get stuffy indoors. They should be good on food, and if not Shadow Milk could just drop some more in a portal and let it sort itself out; and, if they get really bored, he supposes there are enough intact books for them to read. He should have thought up a means to check on them before he left, but there just hadn't been enough time—

"Bluebird?" Pure Vanilla asks, softly, knocking Shadow Milk out of his train of thought. He shakes his head, casting it away swiftly. They're fine. They'll be clingy when he gets back, but he knows they'll be fine. One week is nothing. The spire is safe, too, so he really doesn't need to think about it so much.

"Let's just get to the tent," Shadow Milk mutters. He's just tired. He'll be over it in the morning. Pure Vanilla frowns, but doesn't say a word. They pass by Dark Cacao, and for the sake of politeness Shadow Milk gives him a brief wave goodbye before ducking into the tent. Pure Vanilla stays behind to actually speak to Dark Cacao, and to cast a barrier, giving Shadow Milk a precious moment to himself.

First, he examines the state of the tent. It seems properly done, and the floor definitely isn't cold and wet mud slush. With a few blankets laid out to create an adequate area to lay their sleeping bags, though a smaller area than he'd prefer, and a wood stove already prepared with logs, it's as good as he could have asked for. Damn. He was really looking forward to insulting Pure Vanilla's efforts again. Disappointing.

He can feel the moment the barrier goes up, gentle pressure washing over him for a second before it pops with the gravitas of a soft sigh. It's a bit of an odd one, he muses as he takes one of the bedrolls Nilly had set to the side and begins to roll it out. In the many ways you could set a barrier, the "bubble" was a simple and popular choice. It's no wonder Nilly chose it, too, but he seems to set it up in an odd manner. Ordinarily the diameter is set prior to casting, and then the caster defines the center point based on sight. Like placing a bowl over a sheet of paper, keeping anything inside in and anything outside out.

Though, Shadow Milk hums as it comes to mind, Pure Vanilla can't exactly cast based on sight in most cases. Some spells would definitely require he temporarily disconnect his sight from his staff, most barrier variations included, so that would explain his odd method. Instead of pre-defining the bubble, Pure Vanilla expands it as he casts it. Much like blowing a bubble in soap solution, or blowing glass, it expands until it reaches the desired size and covers the desired area. Most wouldn't cast that way, you'd have to be able to modify your spell conditions to allow and/or reject certain quantifiers as you expand it, which is multitasking most cookies can't manage. Though, if you're blind, there's certainly not a better way to do it. Not if speed is your intent, anyhow.

"That should suffice." Pure Vanilla says, stepping into the tent and undoing the ties so the flap falls closed. He busies himself with fixing it so the wind, when it makes its inevitable but undesired return, doesn't tear the flap back open. Shadow Milk glances back at him for only a moment before turning his attention to the wood stove. Just a bit of kindling and a spark, and the fire flares to life. "A duration of eight hours is adequate, yes? You don't sleep much."

"For how awful I'm feeling, I'm going to need a day or two." Shadow Milk snarks, though when he sees Pure Vanilla's expression he regrets it immediately. "That was a joke. Really, Nilly, can I not joke now?" He says flatly, narrowing his eyes.

Pure Vanilla glances away with his hand pressed against his mouth, eyes swimming with guilt. Repugnant fool. "I'm sorry, I don't…" Pure Vanilla starts, but before Shadow Milk could get too frustrated with him he pauses and takes a breath. "I'll adjust. You never would tell me if you were seriously hurt, anyhow." He finishes. It's an acceptable answer. Minutely.

"See? You know me," Shadow Milk nods. But there's no point in keeping Pure Vanilla out of the loop with this matter, else he'll get all naggy about it. "Rest isn't going to do much on it's own, but it'll make the walk back tolerable," still excruciating, but not impossible as it presently is, "so you won't have to do the little healing trick tomorrow. So forget about it, got it? I don't want you to try it again."

"Are you certain?" Pure Vanilla murmurs hesitantly, though when Shadow Milk refuses to respond and instead crawls into his bedroll, he accepts that as answer enough. "I'll remember that. Goodnight, Bluebird."

Shadow Milk can hear him fiddling with the second bedroll, unraveling it to lay it out in the limited space on top of the blankets. Though he knows, factually, that Nilly was a couple feet further, Shadow Milk can still feel his warm presence as if they were shoulder to shoulder. Useful, for when the wood runs out. The heat shouldn't dissipate so quickly so as to be an issue but there's merit to packing a tent full of bodies. The heat alone from the company would stave off the risks of the cold just as effectively. This was likely an unexpected blessing to their escort, as well; Pure Vanilla radiated heat enough that three cookies packed in a tent with him would find it suffocatingly sweltering.

Shadow Milk supposes it isn't so bad; he lets his exhaustion carry him away, though not until he's dismissed the dreaming spell. He'd really suffer if he forgot to do that.

It's warm, is all Shadow Milk can think. Cold light is siffused through the fabric of the tent, reaching his face and making him groan in displeasure as he turns to hide his eyes in his pillow. In the hazy half-aware doze he was in, he can barely register much more than that. There is light, and it is warm, and… everything smells rather pleasant, familiar and gentle, comforting. It's a rarity for himself to sleep so peacefully, so dreamlessly, and to wake up warm was practically unheard of.

A soft chuckle reaches his ears, but he can't bring himself to react with more than another grumble, curling closer to the source of heat and curling his fingers into the fabric. Something feels off about it, but he isn't quite sure what. His mind was slow with sleep, and though waking slow was not something he's done before he can't find any reason to be concerned. It feels nice, and the enveloping warmth was managing to soothe his aches. Comfort was not something he was familiar with, and with half his mind still clinging to the last dregs of sleep he can't give it up now that he's found it.

"Bluebird," a gentle voice calls, one that Shadow Milk knows. He's not ready to answer it, not willing to open his eyes just yet, but it calls him to anyways. Cruelty, his mind chants, and he lets out a soft whine as some of the warmth and pressure leaves his shoulders in the wake of it. "Everyone's waking, my dear. You need to change back." A gentle nudge, just a small shake of his shoulder, makes Shadow Milk cling even tighter.

No, he tries to mumble, but it seems he simply is not capable of words; that plaintive rejection is beyond him, despite his best efforts. Also despite his best efforts, the gentle rousing is managing to succeed. Drowsy half-thoughts flee from his grasp and clarity starts to chip into his mind, repugnant and terrible vice.

First, he remembers where he is; out in the snowy wastes of the Dark Cacao Kingdom, a place he didn't wish to remain for very long at all. There was an entire escort outside, in position to spot his true form if he were careless. That's enough to get him to release his grip on the soft fabric beneath his head.

Second, he remembers Pure Vanilla is present with him. Forced to share a tent because of Dark Cacao's ridiculous pragmatism, intelligent choice or not Shadow Milk would never forgive this slight, there's simply no other the gentle voice could belong to. This thought makes his lips curl into a sneer, a retroactive reaction to correct his mistaken thoughts of half-conciousness. It, also, gets him to bite his tongue when the "pillow" he'd curled into starts to move. He's intelligent enough to put the pieces together, there.

Lastly, he remembers waking sometime in the night. Not fully, not even half, just barely a fraction of consciousness. There's not much of a memory there, but it's enough to send burning mortification through his core. As Pure Vanilla carefully shifts him off, as though he truly intended to let Shadow Milk sleep in the few measly minutes more they had, Shadow Milk feels his ears burn. He didn't care. He didn't care and the only reason he'd done it was because Pure Vanilla was so annoyingly whiney. Sure, he may have been trying to be quiet, he may have covered his sobs with a hand and muffled the noise, but clearly it hadn't worked. Otherwise Shadow Milk would not have woken up, however minutely, and he would not have thrown himself on Pure Vanilla's lap like some needy and pathetic feline. And the only reason he'd done that was because he was too tired to think properly!

As Shadow Milk stews and seethes, still half curled on top of their tangled bedrolls, Pure Vanilla fiddles around with the wood stove. There was barely any heat coming from it, likely the fire had died not long after they had fallen asleep, if Pure Vanilla didn't exstinguish it himself. Still, to transport it properly they'd need to empty it of its soot and ashes, and with opening the tent flap being a risk Pure Vanilla didn't have much else to do.

"Could you stop that?" Shadow Milk grumbles out anyways, peeling an eye open, as if he could still slip away back into peaceful rest at any moment. Pure Vanilla pauses, looking up from his half-effort attempt to clean out the remaining lumps of charred wood, smiling oh-so fondly even as Shadow Milk glares at him.

"Unfortunately, as much as I wish you could sleep in, we are expected to leave within the next hour. Dark Cacao predicts another storm brewing, and he wishes us back in the fortress before the winds get particularly trying." Pure Vanilla wipes his hands off on his robes, leaving trails of charcoal on the fabric Shadow Milk can't help taking great offense to. If he were going to do that to his clothes, Shadow Milk should take note. He'd never let his precious work be disrespected like that, who cares what Nilly wants.

He can keep the damn sweater. It's ruined now.

Shadow Milk closes his eyes again, hearing Pure Vanilla shuffle closer. He's determined to ignore him, make him pay for the insult of a morning Shadow Milk had waked to. Then fingers card through his hair, and Shadow Milk nearly jerks upright then and there. Instead, he restrains himself to only letting his eyes shoot open enough to level another heated glare Nilly's way.

"What are you doing?" Shadow Milk snaps, though Pure Vanilla hardly seems rattled. He just kneels there, at Shadow Milk's side, placidly running a hand through his hair and deftly avoiding disturbing the eyes Shadow Milk still kept firmly closed. Though, Pure Vanilla's fingers manage to coax them to open, staring at him with expression Shadow Milk hopes match the contempt brewing in his chest, though he knows better. Thankfully Nilly has his stupid eyes open, and shouldn't be able to see.

There's an expression Shadow Milk can't read on Pure Vanilla's face, though he notes it's soft. If comfort was capable of being found in a gaze, Pure Vanilla was the cookie blessed with the gift. Shadow Milk squeezes his eyes shut again, all of them, and violently shreds that thought apart.

"Waking you, I suppose." Pure Vanilla says, as if that makes any sense, or rather— as if he knows it makes no sense, but is hiding whatever true reasoning he has. His lies have certainly gotten more obvious, but harder to see through; Shadow Milk hates it. "Bluebird, my dear, I still have yet to give you the surprise I promised. Could I tempt you with that?"

Shadow Milk had forgotten the promise of a surprise, and it certainly piques his interest now. He groans, but it seems Pure Vanilla wins once again; Shadow Milk is "tempted" awake, and he untangles himself from the bedrolls and sits up properly, eyes still stubbornly shut as if refusing to open them will make the sting of losing feel any less annoying. Pure Vanilla strokes his hair one final time, before pulling away.

"You ought to change forms again, before the barrier expires." Pure Vanilla says, repeats rather, and Shadow Milk pries his eyes open to glance at him. Pulling a brown package from his robes, carefully playing with the ties as he smiles down at it with something like nervous anticipation, he looks well and truly excited about all of this. Shadow Milk closes his eyes again and focuses on shifting his form, Malted Milk's face coming easily even as the change makes his aches pang rather pointedly. Shapeshifting did not make things any easier.

Shadow Milk still needs to manually style his hair, but he thinks he'll go without the effort today. It may be excused as laziness, a retired actor of some level of fame likely would be expected to sleep in, and likely would be expected to be quite disgruntled when woken too early. He can always fix it later, once he's more "awake". Besides, Pure Vanilla is much too excited about his little surprise to give him any time to do much of anything.

"I do hope you like it," Pure Vanilla says, as he sits across from Shadow Milk, passing along the package. Shadow Milk scrutinizes its plain appearance for a moment, mentally noting that this rings somewhat familiar. Though, the literal glow of Pure Vanilla's excitement is rather harsh on his eyes.

"Tone it down, firefly, there's such a thing as too bright." Shadow Milk comments blithely, only paying Pure Vanilla half a mind. He tears through the paper carelessly, determined to make this quick, only to freeze.

Ah, he thinks. There's what's been striking him as oddly familiar.

Granted, it's not exactly the same; Pure Vanilla lacks the technical know-how to make a patterned piece, so the scarf remains a single solid blue, and given his status as a complete beginner it's not nearly perfectly made. There are uneaven stiches and some places the yarn has come loose, though it seems those places he's compensated with some thread sewing it together enough to keep it from unravelling completely. It's hideous, a terrible waste of good yarn, trash—

"I wanted you to have my first completed project," Pure Vanilla says, chuckling slightly. Shadow Milk can't tear his eyes away from the terrible insult to the craft, but he can imagine that nervous smile widening as color dusts across his cheeks. "Although I am shamed to admit, I did rush it quite a bit. I needed it to be done before this trip was over, is all. Who knows when I can see you in person again…"

Shadow Milk nearly chokes on the sentiment, that sappy nonsense that comes way too easily to dear Pure Vanilla, and he finally tears his eyes away to look him in the face, and— and—

Promptly, Shadow Milk tears his eyes away again, refocusing on the scarf. It's less dangerous, at this time. Such a hideous thing, but so clearly cared for. Pure Vanilla had put all of his spare time into it, of which he has so little. Shadow Milk wonders how much sleep he's sacrificed for it. It's not even been a full week since Shadow Milk taught him the basics! And yet, here it is. The first thing Pure Vanilla has knit by hand. Chock full of the love and care he puts into everything he touches, given to Shadow Milk, and— gah.

Stop being ridiculous. Don't put words into Pure Vanilla's mouth. There's no reason to believe he cares as much about this gesture as you. This isn't a passion, this is a hobby, and this isn't a piece he put his heart into, merely a thank you. Don't convince yourself of sweet lies you don't deserve.

"It's hideous," Shadow Milk says, but he gently finishes unwrapping it anyways, treating it delicately, as if terrified he'll destroy it. He wraps the scarf around his neck, tucks one end under and over to loosely tie it, and carefully adjusts it until it sits right. He hates it. He'll burn it along with the rest of these horrid clothes as soon as he's home. With prejudice, given the horrible lie it brings to mind. But, for now, he may indulge Pure Vanilla. "But it's a good first attempt. Better than mine, I'd say."

"I believe that's a compliment?" Pure Vanilla says, voice verging on teasing, and if Shadow Milk wasn't aware that he's simply seeing things, he'd almost think Pure Vanilla was leaning closer. That expression earlier had been a figment of Shadow Milk's imagination, overactive and overeager, and certainly even if he "sees" the remains of it, it's not real.

"I believe you need to get your ears checked." Shadow Milk rolls his eyes, though his smile likely gives away the lie there. Pure Vanilla's eyes flutter, and his hand raises, fingertips nearly dusting Shadow Milk's cheek—

"Pure Vanilla, the clouds are rolling in faster than predicted." The new voice breaks through the strange moment with the shock of a needle bursting a balloon, causing Shadow Milk to flinch away and Pure Vanilla to nearly fall over with the suddeness of it. Though the owner of the voice makes no effort to enter, he clearly has no respect for the sanctity of a shared tent. "We need to leave sooner than anticipated."

Pure Vanilla sighs, brows slightly pinched, as he pushes himself to his feet. "I suppose we mustn't keep them waiting," he mutters. He offers a hand down to Shadow Milk to help him stand, and though sharp pain lances through his legs Shadow Milk finds them a lot more cooperative today. "My staff—"

"Over here, Nils." Shadow Milk steps away, out of his reach. By necessity. He needs to stop indulging in his delusions. He can't risk it. Pure Vanilla wished to be his friend, and Pure Vanilla is just the affectionate sort. Reading into it beyond that is wishful thinking, and destined to end in pain. Shadow Milk avoids looking at Pure Vanilla as he picks up the staff from where it sat, leaned up against the wall of the tent, keeps his distance as he holds the head so that Pure Vanilla can grab the handle.

The air buzzes with nervous energy, a tension odd and sharp, threatening to shatter into shrapnel at any moment. Pure Vanilla takes his staff, and closes his eyes. Shadow Milk leaves the tent first. He passes by Dark Cacao with a brief greeting, perhaps too brief to be polite but not as rude as ignoring him entirely. He pays no mind to how Pure Vanilla stops to speak with his dear friend. He pays no mind to the gentle laughter that echoes in his ears even from so far away.

He finds the cream wolves and their handler again, Crunchy Chip Cookie he thinks, and he busies himself with ingratiating himself to the pack once more. He ignores the feeling of eyes trailing after him, and simply enjoys the company of simpler beings. It's funny to see their handler get all up in arms about Shadow Milk's "coddling" of the creatures, anyhow. He certainly doesn't know of any better way to start his day.

Not any real one.

Chapter Text

Shadow Milk makes note to sneak the cream wolves some treats once they're back to the fortress, for being such effective mood stabilizers. He's back to his perfect act in no time after a few minutes of not-so-gentle roughhousing with the critters, even despite their handlers concerns.

Crunchy Chip is amusing. Too serious, much like everyone in this horrible place, but in a sillier manner. It's hard to take him seriously, really, although his experience caring for the cream wolves does pique Shadow Milk's interest. He knows plenty of theory on the matter, but he's never actually seen any of it put to practice. He's never worked with real wolves, just constructs he'd made based on what he knew about them. Crunchy Chip does a few things Shadow Milk's own research hadn't led credence to, but the cream wolves definitely seem to be well cared for and happy. Eager to please, even.

At the very least, Shadow Milk has learned some things while on this trip. He's no longer the sort who absolutely loves research and the like, but he can appreciate trivia on rare occasion. It's mildly interesting.

He doesn't speak to Pure Vanilla again until his mind is set right. The conversation isn't even very entertaining then; Pure Vanilla simply inquires as to whether he liked Crunchy Chip's company, and Shadow Milk gives a roundabout non-answer that Pure Vanilla seems to dislike. While Shadow Milk has clearly recovered from their odd exchange that morning, Pure Vanilla wears the lasting effects of it like a heavy cloak, one he doesn't shed until Dark Cacao picks a conversation with him.

That's just fine by Shadow Milk, really. He's not the one this trip was for, he knows that, he's just been tacked onto the itinerary because Pure Vanilla wanted to prove a point. He does a rather poor job of it, Shadow Milk and Dark Cacao certainly don't like each other and Nilly hasn't done much to correct that, too busy chatting with his old friend to remember his own guest. It is fine though. Shadow Milk has other cookies he can bother, there's good company found in Pure Vanilla's neglected friend he'd dragged along.

Though Black Raisin was hard to be around when she's busy making heart eyes at Caramel Arrow. They're insufferably cute, ridiculously obtuse too, but he knows better than to say such. Shadow Milk makes one snide comment about Black Raisin's little crush and she snaps back something or other about him "being one to talk". He doesn't know a lick what that's about. As riveting as that conversation was bound to be, he knows how to pick his battles. He doesn't make any more comments and she graciously forgets his little slip and lets him ramble about something or other, only mildly annoyed by his continued presence, just until they reach the fortress.

So, here he finds himself, left to his own devices. Abandoned and alone in the frigid fortress on the edge of the sea, no one to bother and nothing to do, except he supposes going back to his room. Though, he was promised a meal upon their return… while he knew their escort had chosen to disperse to their myriad of tasks for the day, sated by the sad excuse for rations they had, the guests had been told they could choose, instead, to eat once they had returned.

Shadow Milk had, because he's not dying from food poisoning anytime soon, and Pure Vanilla had, likely because he planned on skipping the meal entirely. Not that Dark Cacao would let him, as he offered to join them as well despite having taken the rations. Black Raisin suffered through the horrible rations, even if she clearly didn't appreciate the taste (though, impressively, she kept a straight face through it), just so she could go traipse after Caramel Arrow. Apparently, they were going to spar with some other soldiers. How fun.

Shadow Milk knows the way to the dining hall by now, and even if he'll be a little late because he chose not to walk with Nilly and Broody, he knows it hardly matters. His plate will be served when he reaches his seat, and there's no worry about missing anything. There's nothing to miss. Just a boring meal with boring cookies he'll be forced to make small talk with because dear Nilly will be too busy tittering on with his old pal. Utterly benign.

Shadow Milk really doesn't care.

The dining hall is slightly more empty than he'd expected it to be; a number of scattered seats sat empty, including one to Nilly's left that Shadow Milk very nearly ignores. But Dark Cacao is the one to notice his entry and greet him, making Pure Vanilla turn in his seat, and Shadow Milk can just imagine Nilly taking it as some sort of slight later. So, begrudgingly, Shadow Milk sits beside him. Not that it'll matter.

"Malted Milk Cookie," Dark Cacao starts, in his dull manner. They're far from the only cookies there, and a number of them seemed to be hoping for a conversation with their King, but they'd not dare interrupt his time with his guests. A shame. Whatever he had been talking about with Pure Vanilla likely wasn't as important as whatever his advisors and other officials had to say. "I know what Pure Vanilla had thought of it, but I haven't heard from you. Did you enjoy your time outside the fortress?"

"Well, it wasn't the worst thing I've experienced." Shadow Milk responds flippantly, shrugging slightly. "Although I'd vastly prefer a place more like the Hollyberry Kingdom." He should visit again, probably. With Hollyberry out of there, and Yogurt Swirl retired, he should be free to have a little fun there with no consequences. He could probably take Malted Milk out there for a spin— or not. Who knew how many aspiring thespians there would catch on to his non-existent stage record. Maybe he'll have some fun building another new character, in that case.

"You've been? I wonder, have you introduced him to Hollyberry?" Dark Cacao turns to Pure Vanilla, and Shadow Milk is almost too focused on the inevitable interception he'd have to play to notice— but, he's known her far too long to ever miss her. She's rather daring for choosing to be the one to serve him his plate.

Before his dear server could take her hand away, Shadow Milk quickly snatches her wrist. She goes still in his grasp, knowing better than to fight him, but she pouts anyways. As she always does when she's caught. Her disguise is clever, he'll give her that. Masquerading as one of Dark Cacao's waitstaff is certainly an impressive feat, given how seriously he takes security. Someone was lax in their job, if they let her in with no questions.

"What are you doing here?!" Shadow Milk rises from his seat, half intending to drag her out just so they could have some proper privacy— and, so that he may make a quick exit if there's trouble. Black Sapphire was the only one meant to know where he was; he wouldn't have told her, not unless there was trouble. The thought made Shadow Milk's heart jump to his throat. He shouldn't have left them—

"Malted Milk! Just what do you think you are doing?!" Dark Cacao's voice carries, booming with harsh rebuke. Shadow Milk doesn't care, sneering as he glares over at the fool King. Didn't even realize he had a sneak join their staff, she wouldn't have been here for longer than a day! For one who claims himself to know the goings-on in his fortress, he's rather ignorant. But he only spares a moment for him; Candy Apple is more important.

"Where is your brother?" Shadow Milk snaps. Candy Apple stares at him blankly for just a moment before quickly glancing away. "Candy, you're going to tell me where your brother is. Is he here too?"

Candy Apple pouts further, turning her head away even more pointedly. Shadow Milk can feel his frustration grow, alongside the thudding of his heart. Where is he. Is he okay? Why is she here?!

A hand on his shoulder makes him flinch, and he turns his head to see Pure Vanilla's concerned expression. "Bluebird, perhaps you should let go of her." Comes Pure Vanilla's unasked for suggestion, but a glance over his shoulder gives him sight of a rather clearly angry Dark Cacao. Riling him up any more would certainly be troublesome, even if it was too late to keep from drawing his ire entirely. So, despite how much he doesn't want to, he lets go. Candy Apple blinks dumbly when her arm falls back to her side, before she narrows a glare at Pure Vanilla.

But, it seems, this is enough to get her to talk. "Concord Grape is safe at home… probably," Candy Apple says, finishing her sentence with a wince. It takes all his willpower not to grab her by the shoulders and demand answers, but it seems she's keen to give them regardless. "I mean, I didn't tell him I was leaving, so he didn't come with me, so. He's probably at home. But he could be out with his boyfriend too, I don't know."

Shadow Milk can feel his self control crumbling as they speak. Pure Vanilla's hand on his shoulder is barely managing to keep him contained, a gentle reassuring squeeze curbing the flow of tumultuous emotions ever so slightly. "Did you simply decide my orders to stay home were mere suggestions?" He hisses, and at this Candy Apple starts to wilt. "Both of you! Apparently! Here I was, thinking that at least you'd be safe at home, feeling guilty that I didn't come up with some way to keep tabs on you both, and I learn that neither of you listened!"

"Grape did it first!" Candy Apple declares, petulant and petty and very much missing the point.

"I don't care who did it first!" Shadow Milk snaps back, covering his face with his hands as he takes in a sharp breath. "Oh, you are in so much trouble. The both of you. If you thought the last punishment was bad, just you wait." He ground out. Candy Apple manages to look properly cowed, for once.

"But we haven't even found the book yet!" She whines. "Grape was too busy playing around!"

"Maybe you should have thought about that first!" Shadow Milk throws his hands up, before turning to Dark Cacao. His anger looks to have dimmed, just slightly, though likely only because he's confused. "Thank you for the meal, Dark Cacao. A shame I can't appreciate it properly, but I need to figure out what to do with this one." Shadow Milk jabs a thumb over to point at Candy Apple, not leaving a single bit of room for a response. "Pardon me."

He slips away from Pure Vanilla's grounding touch, walking without checking if Candy Apple is going to follow. Of course she is. While he does have to question their obedience, he's never once had to question their loyalty.

Is it rude? Quite so. Is it a poor idea to leave Dark Cacao with no explanation Undoubtedly. But Candy Apple is more important than that dullard, and he's too worked up to stay in character very long. Better to retreat to his room, get the full explanation from Candy, and deal with everything else later. It would have been a mess whether he stayed or left, and at least leaving means that he wouldn't have to explain away any side effects of his loss of composure. Not that he'd have been given any time to, if it came to that. So, leaving. The better plan.

Gah. Now that he thinks of it, she's stuck here now, isn't she? He should have been more patient, waited until he could get her alone so she still had the freedom to take herself home— but he'd panicked like an idiot instead, because he assumed that the emergency contingency was in action, and not the obviously more likely situation where she stalked her way behind him as she had initially attempted to do. Clingy, clingy, clingy, and somehow he'd forgotten! As if she didn't try to dig her claws into his dough every morning like it were a standard greeting.

Candy Apple isn't usually the quiet sort, even when she knows she's angered him she's a mouthy little brat, but she is quiet now. Likely only because of their present location, and the bounds of whatever character she's playing. Someone new, he thinks. He doesn't recognize her disguise at all, though to be fair she'd given up her usual accessories entirely and any personality was hidden well by the uniform those under Dark Cacao's employ wore. Other than hair a pale pale pale gold, she hardly looked different at all.

Seriously, did she put any effort in?!?

Shadow Milk bites back the growl threatening to tear out of his throat, slamming his door open and gesturing for her to enter with a jerky movement of his arm. She scurries in, and he takes a moment to get in a steeling breath before following and closing the door behind them.

"Why are you here?" He asks, when she doesn't immediately launch into excuses as he expects. She wraps her arms around herself with a pout, glancing around the room carelessly in an attempt to keep from looking at him. "I can guess, but you're gonna tell me why yourself if you want any chance of getting out of something worse than just fetching a book."

As he'd guessed, that was more than motivation enough. "How could I stay away when I knew where you were?!" Candy Apple responds, pressing her hand over her heart. "I need to see you! I need to know you're okay, and those nasty ancients aren't taking you away again! I just can't allow it!"

"They're not capable of any such thing! Or do you think I'm just that weak?!" Shadow Milk growls, rising to the air and feeling his hair start to writhe as eyes blink back into their places. His disguise doesn't leave entirely, but even this small partial change would have been enough if he didn't hold himself together for as long as he'd managed. "Ooooh, I can't believe Saph told you, when I get back I'm going to tear his wings off for this!"

"He didn't tell me, I figured it out by myself! It wasn't very hard!" Candy Apple stomps her foot, pointing accusingly as Shadow Milk without a care, as if the shadows hadn't all turned a few degrees darker. "You've gotten all moony-dreamy over that stupid bland Pure Vanilla Cookie, you haven't even tried to hide it! All I needed to hear was that Pure Vanilla was going to be here, and I knew exactly where you'd be!" She shouts, tears brimming in her eyes.

Shadow Milk scoffs. "If that were true, and it isn't, I know you of all cookies wouldn't have noticed anything like that." He sneers, placing his hands on his hips. "And as offensive as that accusation is, I'll allow you some grace and focus on the bigger problem; you leaving the spire when I had told you to stay. You know better than to disobey me, so why would you be so brazenly stupid as to come here and not even bother hiding?!" If she were going to do it, she could have at least tried harder to keep him from finding out! It's almost insulting how little she'd tried to hide.

Candy Apple lets her tears fall, not even bothering to acknowledge them. "All I wanted was to make sure you were going to come home, like you said!" She answers, fists clenching the sleeves of her uniform tightly as she curls into herself. "I was so scared that was a lie, and— and that you were going to stay with Pure Vanilla Cookie, forever, and leave us behind!" Shadow Milk scoffs, initially, but then as the first tear hits the floor he pauses to actually look.

She trembles as she stands, craning her neck up so she can see him properly, and Shadow Milk lowers himself just slightly, though not out of any charity. He's seen her upset before, but he doesn't think he's seen her so… mad.

Even through her tears her eyes are angry, and the trembling she tries to hide by gripping her arms so tightly isn't simply because she's trying to keep herself from falling apart and sobbing herself into mush. He's never before witnessed her anger directed at himself. He's only ever seen her wholly reverent, or uncomfortably loving, things of that ilk. This is new, in an unpleasant manner.

"And you never once thought how stupid that idea sounded?" Shadow Milk prods, and Candy Apple's fists tighten as she ducks her head. "Why in the world would I—"

"Because you love him!" Candy Apple shouts, wails or cries or screams or whatever loud verbiage you'd prefer, stomping her foot as she throws her arms out in a gesture of exasperation. "He's a pest and a bother, he nearly destroyed our home and he rejected your company and he's going to lock you away again, and you love him! For whatever reason! Even I can see it, even if I wish I could lie to myself otherwise!" Candy Apple grips her hair, letting out a sob as she shakes her her head fiercely.

"Why would you stay? Why wouldn't you leave to be with the cookie you love?" She adds before Shadow Milk can form a proper response; he's stunned by her outburst, by this display of emotion he didn't think she was capable of. She didn't ever cry, not since she was little, and even then she'd always smile through it. She's long past the point of ever shedding genuine tears; after so many years, he thought that she'd lost that ability entirely. Candy Apple raises her head again, eyes wide and pleading as she digs her fingers into her arms so tightly he worried about whether her dough would crack from the strain. "You can't leave us again! You can't make me wait another eternity to see you! I just— I just want you to love me half as much as you love that stupid, idiotic, useless cookie!"

She falls to her knees, after that, heaving sobs wracking her frame as she curls over, face nearly low enough to touch the floor. Shadow Milk watches, a myriad of thoughts scrambling in his mind and fighting for purchase, but clarity isn't a mercy granted to him. He drifts further down, hesitantly, slowly, until he lands on his knees beside her.

It's not dissimilar, he thinks, to Saph's own outburst back in the Hollyberry Kingdom. It's jealousy, yes, mostly. Fear, too. Both of them hate Pure Vanilla for "taking" affection they thought they were owed, and feared that it meant the loss of their dear Master once again. Shadow Milk… is baffled by the idea, even still. It makes sense his word wasn't enough for Candy Apple to believe he'd return as he'd said, he is a liar and that's never excluded them, but for her to be so scared she'd face punishment just to know if for once it was the truth? For her to be angry with him, too.

For not the first time, and at this point he's fearing it won't be the last, Shadow Milk wishes he'd been more skilled with handling emotions. For as frustrated as he is that she's here, he feels some… weird ache in his chest as he watches her weep now. Tears didn't suit her. He'd made her cry.

"Candy…" He starts, haltingly, awkward and unsure as his hand hovers over her shoulder. How did he handle this before? When she was little, all it took to dry her tears was his own presence, the rare few times he'd had to intervene. But he didn't spend much time with her at all, leaving it for the sycophants and pests that served him at the time, and Black Sapphire for the most part. He almost wished Saph really had come along, because he'd know what to do, almost certainly.

Candy Apple… is a very clingy cookie. Perhaps, he could start there…?

Despite his discomfort, and all the uncertainty, Shadow Milk hooks his hands under her arms and hauls her upright, curling around her in the closest approximation of a hug he could manage. It's awkward, and really uncomfortable, a strain his already weary dough didn't appreciate, but it does make her sobs hitch and recede some.

"I won't leave you, either of you, ever again. Not if I have any choice. That's… the truth." Shadow Milk nearly winces as he forces the words out, and they come out jilted and strange. Candy Apple's breath shudders as she presses herself closer, reciprocating his awkward hug with a squeeze so tight it threatens to crack his dough. But he lets her, and he lets her press her face to his shoulder and wipe her tears on his sleeve, it's not like they're his clothes after all. He can deal with the wet patch for a minute or two. "I care about you both… a lot more than I ever intended. You and Sapphy, you're… important. My precious treasures…" Shadow Milk raises a hand, hovering over her hair for a moment before he gives up on his forced distance, stroking her head gently as he holds her tighter. "You're the closest thing I have to a family. I don't want to lose you, either."

Family… wasn't a thing the Virtues had been meant to have. He didn't even think he wanted one, even once he fell. But the words feel right, and that's all he's got right now. Whatever will work, whatever will make her stop crying. He can think on it more later; it's not like his words couldn't be taken back at a later date. He is a liar, after all.

Candy Apple sniffles. "But you don't love us, do you?" She mutters, muffled into his jacket. "You love him."

"There's different kinds of love." Shadow Milk responds, half shrugging. He'd deny it, but, the honesty he's offering is helping her calm down some. Even if it's absolutely sickening, even if the words taste vile, it's not for his own sake this time. He'll just make sure to correct her later, probably after he's decided her punishment. He's not gonna just forget that she's in trouble just because she's upset. "That's all it is. You're my kid, he's… something else."

Candy Apple squeezes him tighter, at that, but she doesn't say anything more. So he goes quiet, just holding her as she lets out the last of her sobs, as she slowly pulls herself back together. He only lets go when she pulls away enough to wipe the tears from her eyes, and he's quick to retreat out of reach. The moment is done and over with, and he's not going to indulge her anymore. He returns to routine, plastering on a wide smile and pushing down his tumultuous thoughts until they were hardly murmurs in his mind.

"Aaaanyways, you probably should change out of those drab clothes. Luckily for you, I've been working on some things!" Shadow Milk ducks away, scrounging for the few completed pieces he'd managed. It's not enough for the fancy costumes she prefers, and the only shirt he had finished was one for Black Sapphire, but he hates seeing her dressed in the hideous uniform the servants wore around here. It's not right, he feels, for her to wear something so drab and so poorly made; his work was clearly much better for her. "And your name, what is it? Did you tell anyone already?" He pauses, hiding a wince as he thought back to his outburst in the dining hall. They'd need to explain that if her name was anything else.

Candy Apple finishes wiping her face and plasters a smile on, only slightly shaky before it smooths out again. "Nope! Just put on the uniform and they handed me a list of chores. Got the sense they were all panicked 'cause the plans kept getting changed last second, and none of them are very used to that!" Candy Apple snickers, holding out her arms for Shadow Milk to drop the gathered outfit into. "I think… Cider Candy Cookie, that would work!"

"Alright then, Cider Candy it is!" Shadow Milk agrees with another grin, wider and slightly more genuine, only pausing when there's a quiet little knock on the door. Almost timid. Shadow Milk drops back to the ground and hastily twists his hair into a bun, closing each of his eyes and ensuring he looked Perfectly Normal before walking over. He slips out the door, careful to block the view in as he steps outside to meet… of course. "Nilly! What brings you here?"

Judging by the plate he held and the nervous smile on his face, Pure Vanilla has an excuse well prepared. Though, Pure Vanilla doesn't hide his intention from Shadow Milk. "I was worried about the both of you. Is Candy Apple…?"

"Cider Candy, but continue," Shadow Milk quickly interjects, and Pure Vanilla hardly stumbles.

"Is she alright? Why is she here?" Pure Vanilla asks, offering the plate he held thoughtlessly. Shadow Milk takes it, though he's not really sure why. Perhaps to keep up the charade. "… is she truly in trouble?"

"For this? I'm gonna come up with some kind of punishment, but I'm not telling you anything more than that." Shadow Milk glances back at the door, before leaning to slump against it with a sigh. "You know, being your friend has caused me a lot of problems, Nils. I'm not so sure I'm the bad influence anymore." He looks up at Pure Vanilla with a subdued smile, something more tired than humored. "We'll see, though."

He'll give it a few days before he really regrets his words, but… he might not have to. Candy Apple and Black Sapphire, they're… they want to stay with him as much as he wants them around, maybe more. If that's the case, maybe it's not so bad to let them know its reciprocal.

Family. For a word he'd blurted out thoughtlessly, a stupid concept he had no business even playing at, it's got a nice ring to it. It… works. Marginally. So long as no one else ever hears about it.

Pure Vanilla tilts his head, opening his eyes to scan Shadow Milk appraisingly, as if anything could be gleaned from the blur he saw. Then, slowly, the nerves in his smile recedes, and that aching fondness returns. "We'll see, hm?" He echoes softly.

Pure Vanilla doesn't linger long, just enough to tell Shadow Milk that Dark Cacao would seek answers within the next hour or so. That's fine. It's enough time to get Candy caught up on the story here, and figure out her place in it. He'll probably want both of them there, or at least he'll want to be able to confirm their explanations separately. Pure Vanilla says his goodbyes after that news, but of course can't leave without giving Shadow Milk yet another hug. He leaves too quickly for Shadow Milk to react much, but that's likely a good thing.

Today has been just exhausting. Shadow Milk, quite honestly, just wants to get things with Dark Cacao settled and then sleep. He doesn't need yet another confusing interaction with Nilly to haunt him.

Chapter Text

Candy Apple has managed to style the random handful of completed clothes Shadow Milk had handed her quite well, all things considered. The shirt, overly large on her frame given it was meant for Black Sapphire, was tucked under her skirt with the sleeves folded up all the way to her shoulders, surprisingly neatly all things considered. Her skirt was longer than she usually liked, down to her ankles, and simpler than preferred, with no special flares or accents. With a matching red hat, something like a newsboy. While it wasn't her style, and he could see already the modifications he'd need to make, it should be functional for their needs here.

With her hands folded in front of herself and her smile subdued, she looks the picture definition of a polite young lady. The dissonance in that, compared to how she really is, is frankly hilarious. She's not made any indication that her little outburst earlier is something she even remembers. Shadow Milk is glad for it, really. He'd prefer if they just ignored all of that.

In any case, her display is already much better for the impression they must make, now. Convincing Dark Cacao their little incident earlier is not going to repeat is paramount, that it isn't characteristic of them. If they could present outwardly as somewhat put together, and if Candy Apple could pretend to be docile for long enough, perhaps they could avoid any major issues. It'll be difficult, given the resources they have on hand and how Dark Cacao is as a cookie, but hopefully not impossible.

It's probably a good sign that whoever was sent to retrieve him wasn't one of Dark Cacao's soldiers, but he's surprised the anger-prone fool was giving him a chance to explain himself in the first place. Then again, he's sure he'd made it pretty clear that he knew Candy Apple, and he wasn't just harassing one of the staff. Can't really question it too much; useful is useful.

"Remember your manners, Candy." Shadow Milk reminds her when they stood before the doors of whatever room Dark Cacao had decided to have this talk in. She doesn't have time to reply before the doors open and they're ushered inside, into an all-around more comfortable room than Shadow Milk had expected. It's not the level of luxury Hollyberry had granted him in her Kingdom, but there are chairs to sit in, a bookshelf spanning the length of an entire wall, a fireplace, a carpet, and other creature comforts he thought rare in this place. He hadn't expected it, really.

"Please sit." Dark Cacao says, drawing Shadow Milk's eye. He sits rather awkwardly in an armchair that looks like it hasn't been touched in eons, gestures with his arm at the chairs placed opposite to him. With a low coffee table between them, empty save for dust, it really is reminiscent of Shadow Milk's last visit to the Hollyberry Kingdom. Except this time, it's clear the chairs were dragged here from another room, and this one wasn't used all that often at all.

Shadow Milk obliges, aware of how this goes. Dark Cacao will be harsh and exacting in his interrogation, attempt to draw out the truth with less friendly methods than Hollyberry had tried. He won't get much more than an apology for Shadow Milk's lack of decorum, which is of course not because Shadow Milk is sorry for his actions for how they affected Dark Cacao, but rather because there were better ways to handle Candy Apple's indiscretions. Candy Apple takes the only other empty chair, still looking around the room with shimmering eyes. Likely looking for something interesting, though she'd not find anything.

"You understand why I asked to speak with you both?" Dark Cacao starts, voice low and stern, but not quite as angry as Shadow Milk had expected. Perhaps he'd actually calmed down some, decided to approach this with a level head. Good, if unexpected.

"Of course. We made a terrible scene earlier, though I'll say I didn't intend to." Shadow Milk responds, glancing at Candy with a frown and a furrowed brow. She's not paying attention, but then he'd asked her to stay quiet and let him handle it. Until she's directly addressed, she's going to be off in her own little world. This isn't entertaining enough for her. Whether that would be to their benefit or not is yet to be seen, but it's not a good sign. She needs to identify the angle to approach this at, he couldn't cue her every move here. "So I must apologize for my outburst, and for my student's behavior."

"Your student…" Dark Cacao echoes, elbows on his knees and hands clasped as he leans forward. "Student in what, exactly? It's not some ordinary feat, sneaking into a fortress unassisted."

"She's an actress, of course." Shadow Milk responds, raising a palm to gesture at her. Candy Apple sits up straighter, preening at the attention, and he holds back a grimace. Their limited prep time had not covered everything, and he realizes now he should have focused on how she needed to act rather than their story. She was good at following his lead, following his direction, and he knew she knew how to improvise. Was she being petty in not using that skill, or did she really think this was what he expected from her? "Cider Candy is my most promising protégé, a talent I'd be a fool not to capitalize on. I don't train just anyone, after all, only the best of the best."

"A talented actor or not, my people are not easily fooled." Dark Cacao starts, before turning his gaze to Candy Apple. "How did you get past them?"

Candy Apple glances at Shadow Milk briefly, waiting for his go ahead before answering. Even with his doubts, he knows her skill isn't something open to question. She knows what not to say, anyhow, he'd coached her on that much— "It's easy enough when everybody's all frazzled and stuff, all you gotta do is say you're a new hire and they're so busy-busy they just drag you inside themselves!" She grins easily, tilting her head with blissful obliviousness. "Apparently you were doing a loooot of schedule changes last minute, so everyone was hurried trying to figure out what they were meant to be doing. Cookies don't tend to think too much if there's a lot going on. I coulda tricked them with even my most unconvincing act!"

"Candy," Shadow Milk chides. Though his outward expression is more calm and collected, internally he's seething. Then again, it's not like her problems with him are going to end from one conversation. Candy Apple lets out a small harrumph, turning her head away as she crosses her arm and pouts. Her pettiness may be characteristic of all the Spire inhabitants, but this is not the time! "You're meant to be making up for your misbehavior, not making even more trouble for yourself."

"It's true, though." She grumbles, slumping down in her seat rather childishly. Shadow Milk sighs. Of course, asking her to act proper was outside of her range. She's a menace and a brat, and asking her to keep the mischief out of her act was like asking her to cut off a limb. Even apart from all the other factors.

"My apologies, again." Shadow Milk says, carefully watching for Dark Cacao's reaction. Even still, with her intentionally prodding him, he doesn't react much outwardly. Shadow Milk holds in yet another sigh. This would be so much easier if Saph was here, too. She couldn't have at least dragged him along?

Shadow Milk is choosing to forget, for the moment, that Candy Apple had suggested that Black Sapphire was busy fooling around with a faerie now. That's far from the most pressing thing, and can be dealt with later. Hopefully, after he presses Candy for more details. As petty as she is attempting to be, she will fold the moment she thinks he's truly disappointed in her. She's stubborn, but not infallible.

"No, I suppose that is something I had never considered." Dark Cacao says, slow and thoughtful, with a tired sigh. "You understand why I can't just let the matter rest, though. Cider Candy has trespassed, impersonated an employee, and the security risk she has illuminated is no small thing. Not to mention, your outburst earlier reflects poorly on myself. That you noticed an infiltrator before I did, for one. That for a moment it seemed I was allowing a guest to mistreat my workers, for another."

"I do understand, though I'd say you were hardly allowing me to do anything. Your displeasure with my actions was clear." Shadow Milk tenses, clenching his fists over his knees, pinching the fabric tightly. "I would ask you to understand, though, that Cider Candy is just a child. Certainly one old enough to understand she'd done wrong, I won't deny that much, but children aren't well known for their rational thought."

"Regardless, you both are strangers to me, and children are often capable in their own right. There's consequences for her actions, and I can not trust that they were as ignorant and benign as you say." Dark Cacao sits up again, face set in that same, unmoving, stern line. "I have no clue your intentions, where you come from or who you associate with. With times as dire as they are, I can only take action with utmost caution."

"What a vouch of confidence in your dear friend, huh?" Shadow Milk sneers, his hands moving to grip the arm rests, ready to push out of the chair if need be. Dark Cacao freezes, eyes narrowing as he meets Shadow Milk's glare. "Pure Vanilla has called me his friend, and is the one who brought me here in the first place. I can understand not trusting me, I've done nothing to earn it and frankly I don't deserve it, but Pure Vanilla is another story."

"Pure Vanilla is not infallible—" Dark Cacao starts, before cutting himself off and shaking his head. When he opens his eyes again, they are steeled. "I do trust him. He hasn't said anything that makes me inclined to trust you."

"Does he really need to?" Shadow Milk asks, tilting his head. "He brought me here. Would he do that if he thought I was a danger to you?" Dark Cacao meets his stare, making not a single sound. Not a change in his expression. The unspoken answer, that Shadow Milk suspected they both knew, is that it didn't prove a thing. Nilly is an optimistic soul, after all.

"Uuuuugh!" Candy Apple groans, sinking lower in her chair, rolling her eyes dramatically. The brewing tension in the room is dissipated, just slightly, by the antics of one child. "All this 'trust' talk is so boring! Why do I gotta be here?"

Grateful as he is for her timing, Shadow Milk doesn't let it erase the fact that this is all her fault in the first place. "Because you're the one who caused the problem, Candy." Shadow Milk rolls his eyes, then, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling.

"If I said sorry, would that cut it?" Candy Apple asks, before sitting up and turning to Dark Cacao with teary eyes. "I'm really sorry, mister, didn't mean to bother you. I was just so sad and lonely without my amazing teacher at home—"

"Cut it out, Candy." Shadow Milk sighs again, pressing a hand to his forehead. "I'm trying to settle this agreeably, you're not helping." Shadow Milk massages his head, then down his cheek with a groan. "Can she leave? This may be more productive."

"Not without an escort." Dark Cacao says, brow furrowing thoughtfully for a moment before raising to stand. "I'll have Caramel Arrow sent for. I imagine it's best to have someone capable of keeping up with Cider Candy Cookie."

"Not a bad idea," Shadow Milk agrees easily. "She's got energy comparable to the cream wolves, and twice the speed."

"They have cream wolves?!" Candy Apple gasps, leaping to her feet and whirling towards the doors. "I haven't played with wolves in so long! The rabbits can't compare!"

"You don't get to play with the wolves, Candy. Even if Dark Cacao were to let you, I'm definitely not." Shadow Milk stands to follow her, grabbing her arm before she could run to the doors and slip away. "And I'm pretty sure Dark Cacao would not let you."

"But—!" Candy Apple starts to whine, but when she turns to face Shadow Milk she gives up with a pout. Clearly, she can tell she's tried his patience as much as he'll tolerate today. "Could I play with the wolves if I agreed to clean the library all by myself?"

"It's not a punishment if you choose to do it." Shadow Milk grimaces, glancing over at Dark Cacao in the hopes he doesn't think anything's too suspect. Most children do not have fond memories of playing with wolves. Though, judging by his lack of reaction as he talks to a cookie just out the door, perhaps playing with wolves is normal for the youth here. Would make sense, given they had the wolves in the first place. Guess he was overthinking it. "Just— don't cause any more problems. And I mean any."

"Boo," Candy Apple says, scrunching up her nose as Shadow Milk finally lets go of her arm. Thankfully, it doesn't take very long for Caramel Arrow, and predictably Black Raisin, to arrive. With a brief warning not to let Candy run them too ragged, finally Shadow Milk and Dark Cacao are free to have a productive, if tense, conversation.

It's a simple problem; Candy Apple exploited a weakness in his security he had never anticipated, and her intentions were questionable. Child or not, that's not something to take lightly. It says more that Dark Cacao is not as frustrated with Shadow Milk as he'd initially been; apparently, dear Nilly had managed to help mitigate the damage by explaining that "Malted Milk's charges were very sensitive to separation," and that "actors can be very dramatic," which were both true statements, even if arguably understatements. That's enough, at least, to shift the conversation. Not that Candy Apple is forgiven for her slights, but Dark Cacao seems open to letting Shadow Milk handle the issue. Things get, even if only slightly, less tense, and they talk a bit more… loosely, perhaps? Certainly not as focused.

"She's certainly strange. How in the world did you find her?" Dark Cacao eventually asks, after yet another half-true story about Candy Apple's other mischief. One of the more harmless ones, unless you asked Black Sapphire. But he's not dead, so, definitely not one of her worst incidents. All he'd lost in that exchange was a waistcoat, really, so it wasn't even the most costly of her games.

Shadow Milk pauses, but it's not because he doesn't have an adequate answer. He remembers perfectly well how he obtained her, it's just not a story anyone would find pleasant. It makes him angry just thinking about it. "I found her when she was just a little doughball, not even a year old I believe." Shadow Milk starts, slowly. "She was alone, abandoned. So I took her, of course." Stripped to it's bare bones, it's a nicer story than reality. It's not the one he told her, though. "She doesn't know that. I never told her that much."

"She's not just your student, then." Dark Cacao muses. "You raised her."

"No, not really." Shadow Milk responds, leaning his elbow on the armrest and propping up his head with a fist, legs crossed. Playing at casual, attempting not to display his discomfort. "I gave her to some stagehands, and they did the raising for the first few years. After that her brother took to watching her. I only intervened when things got out of hand, or they got into trouble they couldn't get their way out of." Shadow Milk closes his eyes and sighs. "That's… not raising them. That's giving them a home, giving them attention, sometimes, but not raising."

"I suppose that is something I can understand." Dark Cacao responds, tone subdued, as if remembering something that was half-a-regret. "Pragmatism isn't quite useful when dealing with children. There are considerations you miss, when you don't know any better."

"I knew better." Shadow Milk opens one eye to peer at Dark Cacao, smiling wryly. "I'd had her brother for only a few months by that point, so you could call me inexperienced, but I knew what people expected from me. Couldn't do it, or wouldn't, really. At the time, I didn't think about it much. I was too busy a cookie to slow down my work and manage children, so I didn't even try."

"Such things are no longer true, from what you've told me," Dark Cacao says. Shadow Milk merely shrugs, not carelessly, more resigned. "And clearly, you all are still close. I know that… not every child would chase after their parent so doggedly. Not every child would forgive your mistakes."

"I wouldn't call it forgiveness, Candy is just… clingy. She'd take any scrap of attention I gave her; she's always been that way." Shadow Milk pauses to sigh. That is, also, likely a consequence of his inattention. "It leads her into trouble, as you've seen."

"It's trouble that I can forgive, this once." Shadow Milk jolts upright, not expecting Dark Cacao to say such a thing. Dark Cacao's expression gives nothing away, but Shadow Milk can't get any sense of dishonesty from him either. Is he… really…? Is he insane?! "Another day, another slight, I will not hesitate to give her the punishment she is due. But… presumably, you are making efforts to correct your mistakes in raising her. I will not interfere with that."

"You think so?" Shadow Milk asks, blinking widely with a bemused grin. Dark Cacao nods his head, slow and solemn, frowning thoughtfully.

"Your first leap when you saw her, rather than scolding her, was to ask if she and her brother were safe. That makes it clear enough to me. You have in the past failed to care for them; now, you are making up for that. I am not wrong, am I?" Dark Cacao tilts his head, propping his elbows on his knees and leaning forward as he clasped his hands together. "You have been given a chance to right your wrongs, and it would not rest well with me if I interfered with that."

"I…" Shadow Milk starts, but he can't really find any words. He doesn't understand any of it, why Dark Cacao would choose to ignore something so significant as Candy Apple's indiscretions when that's so contrary to what Shadow Milk knows about him. But he's not stupid enough to question it now. It may be wildly out of left field, but it was beneficial. "Thank you."

"It is not enough to simply teach a child and provide the supplies for their survival," Dark Cacao says, glancing down at his clasped hands with a furrowed brow. "But it is entirely too easy to forget that." Shadow Milk tilts his head, watching Dark Cacao carefully. That's useful. That's a new angle to view him from. Looking at him like this, Shadow Milk finds a new clarity. For once… Dark Cacao is easy to read.

Hm, he has his own brat running around, isn't that right…? Shadow Milk might remember something like that. Guess that went sour pretty quickly, bitter cookies stewing in their bitter feelings…

"Well, it was easy enough to fix it." Shadow Milk says airily, shaking his hand in a so-so gesture as Dark Cacao jerks upright to glare at him. "Turns out, some emotional conversations can bandage the wound, and if you take the time you can work on healing it. I mean, the hard part is taking accountability, right? Soon as you can do that, it can be easy as giving them a mug of hot chocolate to start over." Shadow Milk grins once again. "Just an example of a start, I mean. I don't know your situation."

"It's certainly more complicated than a simple conversation could fix." Dark Cacao responds, to which Shadow Milk just shrugs. It isn't his business and he doesn't care enough to ask more, even if a statement like that makes him very curious. He may just have to pester Nilly about it later, if it gets too much. Dark Cacao stares for just a moment more before shaking his head. "But, I suppose, there's not any simple answer, is there?"

"The simple answer is often the wrong one!" Shadow Milk chirps. "It's… easy to cast everything off as a lost cause…" Shadow Milk trails off, voice getting quieter as the thought comes to him. "But that's the cowards way out, isn't it? If you say its impossible to fix, you write yourself off and wipe your hands clean of it. You give yourself every excuse you need to never try again. You can't fail that way." Shadow Milk hums thoughtfully, lowering his gaze to the floor. The coward's way. Right.

"Awfully bold to call me a coward to my face," Dark Cacao says, drawing Shadow Milk's attention back. But instead of a frown, or a glare, or any sign of a scowl… Dark Cacao just looked amused. He let out a small huff of air at Shadow Milk's dumbfounded expression, the loudest expression of humor Shadow Milk has witnessed thus far. "But you raise a fair point, Malted Milk Cookie. Even if it was inelegantly presented."

Shadow Milk gasps, affronted. "Inelegant?!" Shadow Milk jabs a finger at the old fogy with a snarl. "And, pray tell, how would you have said it any differently?!"

Though they don't talk for much longer than that, it's not unpleasant. Dark Cacao even, reluctantly and only with some rather grating pestering from Shadow Milk, shares some old stories about his own kid. Not as entertaining as the ones Shadow Milk shared of Candy Apple and even (just once) Black Sapphire, but a story is a story. It goes rather well, all things considered. Shadow Milk supposes Dark Cacao isn't, entirely, as dull as he'd initially thought. Ugh.

Nilly better be happy about this; his plan was just a little bit more viable. Shadow Milk wouldn't dismiss it so entirely anymore, anyhow. That would be the actions of a coward, after all, and among the many thing he is, he is not a coward.

Chapter Text

"This afternoon?" Shadow Milk grimaces, glancing back at Candy Apple as she picked at her plate with a scrunched up face. He'd told her not to make a fuss about it, but she's much less tolerant of the bitter things— and, lately, used to sweet, opulent breakfasts. In comparison, what the Dark Cacao Kingdom provides is far out of her comfort zone. "We left in the morning to get here."

"I was attempting to increase the time I could spend with both you and Dark Cacao," Pure Vanilla says. With such a simple answer, Shadow Milk almost can't question it. It's a very Nilly thing to say, after all. He doesn't know why he's been included in it, though. "We'll arrive back in the Vanilla Kingdom tomorrow evening, and you'll be able to make your departure home then."

"Yes, yes, I know how long the flight takes. My issue isn't misunderstanding the time table, I just was expecting to leave sooner." Shadow Milk jabs his fork at his plate, lip curling as he glares at the abomination that passes for food in this place. Though its not the meal that displeases him. "I need to see what mess Concord Grape has gotten himself into, you heard Candy when she got here." He lowers his voice, well aware of the many ears that may decide to listen in. Including Candy Apple, but there's nothing really stopping her from overhearing when she's seated right beside him. Though she makes a fair show pretending she's not listening in.

"I don't see why that would be a problem?" Pure Vanilla tilts his head, frowning. Shadow Milk levels a tired glare at him, taking a bite of his inadequate breakfast pointedly. Pure Vanilla takes a moment to think before he winces, turning back to playing with his own food with an awkward hum. "Ah. Right."

"He's not unknown for doing this, sometimes." Shadow Milk says, with another jab at his plate for punctuation. "I never did care, but we're in a precarious position at the moment, and where he's been is… not a good place for him to be messing around. Not at this time, anyways. I tried to get Candy to elaborate before sending her to bed last night, but she was surprisingly tight-lipped." With another glance sent her way, he watches as Candy Apple hides her attention carefully by taking a large bite of her meal and pretending to enjoy it. If he didn't know already it would be unproductive, he'd attempt asking her more now.

Normally she's quite quick to spew whatever she felt would get Black Sapphire in trouble, especially if she felt it was something that could lessen her own sentence. Her surprising show of solidarity only tells Shadow Milk that Saph is definitely doing something he'd disapprove of at the least. Given Saph was already in trouble just for leaving the Spire, things were not looking good for him.

"I would request we leave sooner, if it meant we could prevent any trouble. Unfortunately, the airship for our transport will not be here until our original departure time. Any missive we send wouldn't arrive in time to change it." Pure Vanilla sighs, setting his fork down and placing his hands in his lap. Plate untouched, of course. "I'm sorry. I didn't think about how we would handle any emergencies that arose…"

"Well, you wouldn't have had to. If there was actually something I needed to leave for, then I would have given up on this charade and made my way home regardless of consequence. This is annoying, but not presently an issue. I need to actually talk to Grape before I can tell how bad the situation is." Shadow Milk taps Pure Vanilla's plate with his fork, a quiet (not silent, there's no way to tap porcelain silently) order to actually eat. One Pure Vanilla takes with a sheepish smile, and a touch of an embarrassed flush to his cheeks. "He can have a boyfriend if he likes, he's an adult and I'm not going to pester him about things that really don't matter, but it's the whos and wheres that are the problem, and that he's been disobeying my only orders for the week to go gallivanting about with them."

"Is it…" Pure Vanilla pauses, fork halfway to his mouth before he lowers it to his plate again with another wince. "I should preface, I mean no offense. Just, I can't help but worry… is it… do you think, that he's genuine in his feelings?"

"Likely not." Shadow Milk won't sugarcoat it. Black Sapphire was very stalwart about keeping his distance from cookies outside the Spire, always had been. His interest may have been drawn by a cookie or two, but if he ever had any genuine feelings they weren't ever very serious ones. Otherwise that would have been a conflict in the past, and it's never been. If Shadow Milk wanted a village to tear itself apart and Black Sapphire had a "partner" there, Black Sapphire never hesitated to follow through. He wasn't above leading any interested parties around by the nose before crushing them under his heel, either. He'd found playing the social game very entertaining, so it's not surprising he'd found a faerie to play it with. It's just incredibly poor timing, and risky to boot. The fallout was often enough to draw a lot of attention, and not the good kind. "If he is, for whatever reason, that's a bigger problem. Given our circumstances."

"I… see," Pure Vanilla frowns. Of course, he's sure to have his scruples about what Black Sapphire finds fun. He's a good person, after all. He cares about other cookies feelings. "Then, this is unpleasant in multiple dimensions. I hope… things don't end painfully, for either party."

Shadow Milk frowns himself, turning his gaze back to his plate and pushing his food around with his fork. "I'll… convince him to end it amicably." Shadow Milk grumbles, noticing out of the corner of his eye as Pure Vanilla whips his head around to look at him. Shadow Milk grits his teeth, feeling his cheeks burn, and he stubbornly refuses to look at him. "That's the better choice, anyhow. Draws less attention, allows for a clean retreat, no trouble can find us if we don't cause a mess, right? Plus, I'm sure if we're trying to convince your friends I'm 'likable,' I should make sure my children are on their very best behavior." Shadow Milk makes the mistake of flicking his eyes back towards Nilly, who's expression was so bright and happy he was gonna burn someones eyes off. Probably Shadow Milk's. "Don't make a big deal out of this."

"I appreciate it, Bluebird." Pure Vanilla says, voice warm enough to melt snow, absolutely oozing with fond affection. Shadow Milk tears his eyes away and returns to eating, silently, only glancing back at Nilly once more to see him take a bite of his own food. Finally. Even if he only picks at about a third of it, that's more than nothing. Shadow Milk will just have to make sure he eats a full meal once they're on the airship. Won't be hard; Black Raisin will be there to help.

He takes extra care to avoid seeing what Candy Apple thought of that exchange. Hopefully, though he'd be truly delusional if he really thought so, she doesn't think he's chosen this direction for Pure Vanilla's sake. He does wish she understood its not his sake alone, at the least. He isn't wrong, that the sooner and cleaner Saph's little game ends the better off they'll all be. He doesn't want to make the already pointless and impossible task of convincing the faeries and their boring Guardian he could be an ally even more pointless and impossible.

It takes little more time for breakfast to be finished, and for Dark Cacao to approach them with a request for them to join him on a visit to the training yard. For whatever reason. Probably still trying to combine time with Pure vanilla with his work, incapable of just relaxing like a normal cookie. In any case, it's annoying, and Pure Vanilla of course accepts the invitation for all of them. Shadow Milk isn't keen on it, but when Candy Apple heard that Caramel Arrow would be joining them she had been excited. Predictably, Caramel Arrow's personality was a draw to the ever so eager-to-pester Candy Apple, who found joy in being annoying to cookies who held just the slightest bit too much patience for her antics.

Black Raisin, less tolerant and definitely more on the stern side after dealing with an entire community of younger cookies of comparable energy, was more firm in shutting her down and trying to divert her attention. Caramel Arrow, who was also a considerably serious cookie, has comparatively much less experience with the bubbly energy Candy Apple approaches her with. A more concise way to put it, would be that Black Raisin knows how to manage children for the long term, meanwhile Caramel Arrow has only ever had to interact with them sparingly in short term. And likely not children like Candy Apple, who is both on the older end and also a very silly presence interested in only what's most fun and lacking any concept of respectful behavior. And, that all adds up to mean that Caramel Arrow is her newest target. Like poor Wildberry Cookie back in the Hollyberry Kingdom, Caramel Arrow has earned the attention of a cookie who's only goal is to annoy her.

So, of course, outvoted by both Nilly (who wished to join his friend) and Candy Apple (who wanted to pester a soldier), Shadow Milk had no other choice but to join them as well. Thankfully, after their talk the other day conversation with Dark Cacao flows much more smoothly. There isn't much to say about it, though; Dark Cacao only explains that he's having the head of staff put together more plans for if the schedule changes suddenly, and workshopping a new process when bringing in new employees so staff could identify intruders with ease, direct results of Candy's involvement. Shadow Milk jokes that maybe Candy Apple could make up for her indiscretions by helping test the effectiveness, but Dark Cacaos response to that was either a serious or a sarcastic (it's still hard to read him clearly) agreement Shadow Milk didn't know what to do with. Thankfully, Pure Vanilla is there to shift the topic this time, and Shadow Milk is able to determine that joking with Dark Cacao is off the table for the time being.

The training yard was full, of course. The soldiers of the Dark Cacao Kingdom surely never took breaks, a true reflection of their King, so Shadow Milk had expected nothing less. Even so, the clash of the wooden swords they used for training and then harsher, sharper sounds of the metal swords clanging for those confident in their ability to control their strikes, expected or not it's a tad overwhelming. Shadow Milk tends to get headaches quite easily, a feat that may be related to all the other frailties in his dough, so the immediate regret in stepping out is paired with a pained wince he fails at suppressing entirely. Thankfully, no one seems to notice.

Likely, in part, to the more distracting young girl watching the clashes with a too-wide grin and shimmering eyes. "I wanna fight someone!" Candy Apple giggles shrilly, rocking on her feet as she stares out at the closest sparring pair, balling her fists into her skirts. If she were to go against any of the soldiers, she'd look out of place. She, also, would look like she belonged anywhere other than a sparring ring.

After another night of no sleep (Shadow Milk didn't need it and she did, and he wasn't letting her out of his sight any time soon) Shadow Milk has managed to throw together something that actually fit her. In colors she usually doesn't wear, golden oranges and multiple shades of browns, because when he went out looking for more fabric to source he'd only found a very limited range. It's still all much more her style, frilly short sleeves and fluffy petticoats, cupcake skirt in spiraling orange and brown only down to her knees in length. Though, because it is cold, she has been given thick tights and a jacket lined and hemmed with fluff, as well as a pair of earmuffs to match her orange striped scarf. The jacket was borrowed, but Shadow Milk had spent all his time the night before making all the rest. He should have expected her to get it all mussed up the moment she first wore it; she's not really the careful sort.

"I'm sure someone would be willing to teach you the basics, if Malted Milk doesn't disagree." Dark Cacao glances back at Shadow Milk for only a moment before turning his attention fully to Candy Apple. "But without training, you could get hurt facing just about any soldier here."

"Ha, as if!" Candy Apple scoffs, crossing her arms and grinning smugly. Though at just a glance from Shadow Milk, a quick 'play to your role kid,' she drops the arrogant pose with an awkward, standoffish shift in posture. Suddenly what was once confident and brash reads as insecure and tepid, all with just a shift in weight from her right foot to her left and a glance at the ground. "But, I think a refresher on how to use a sword would be fun…" She adds with a pout, eyes narrowing slightly.

"I don't see any point in stopping her. The more she exhausts herself now, the better the flight back will be." Shadow Milk gives half of a shrug, waving in a vague shooing gesture for them to go on. Candy Apple grins, throwing her hands up in the air with a cheer, hopping excitedly in place as Dark Cacao turns to find someone to teach her. Swords aren't her weapon of choice, but Shadow Milk doesn't doubt she'll find some use for the know-how. With them wandering off, for the moment anyhow, he and Pure Vanilla were left behind to trail after them.

"Have you enjoyed yourself?" Pure Vanilla asks, rather suddenly. Shadow Milk pauses, glancing over at him for only a moment before looking out at the training soldiers and stretching his arms above his head with an exaggerated yawn.

"Eh, not the most interesting place I've been to. It's something new, though." Shadow Milk drops his arms again with another shrug, tilting his head as he turns to face Pure Vanilla fully, leaning into his space with a sharp grin. Pure Vanilla smiles at him amusedly, not bothering to step away or move to prevent this whatsoever. There's a level of comfort in this, after the weirdness of the day previous. "How about you? Everything you hoped for? I mean, Dark Cacao and I certainly aren't buddy-buddy, but he doesn't seem like he wants me dead just yet."

"Perhaps not everything I've hoped, but it is enough for the moment." Pure Vanilla hums, allowing Shadow Milk to sidle closer and squint at him in a brief moment of scrutiny. "And I would say, this time with you has been more than I could have asked for. I'm grateful you agreed to come along… and glad to see you liked my gift, even though it's certainly not up to your standard."

Shadow Milk pauses, hand flying up to land on the scarf still wrapped around his neck, before rolling his eyes with a scoff. "It's convenient to have, I wouldn't wear it if I had anything else." He says, glancing away for just a moment, though when Pure Vanilla smiles at him it's more than clear he's been seen right through.

"Of course," Pure Vanilla says anyways, even if the lie was as transparent as glass. "Even so… it is nice, to see you wear something I've made." Shadow Milk narrows his eyes, lips curling even as warmth returns to his face. He'll excuse it as Pure Vanilla's magic, the radiating warmth that melts the snow threatening to fall on the both of them as they stand together, instead of acknowledging the reality of it.

"Ew. Will you ever stop with the sentimental nonsense?" Shadow Milk asks, though his feigned disgust doesn't last long as Pure Vanilla loops their arms together and begins to lead him along after the long-gone forms of Candy Apple and Dark Cacao. Pure Vanilla's smile, which he turns to him to show off because it isn't as if the fool needs to face the path to see it, is bright and oozing with that calm joy nothing seems able to shake for very long.

"Likely not. I don't particularly think it's nonsense, though." If it were even possible, Pure Vanilla's glow seems to get even brighter, his warmth almost bordering on uncomfortable as his smile widens. "Actually, I'm afraid I may even get worse about it. If you'll forgive me for that. I'm afraid the indulgences you've granted me have just managed to exacerbate the issue."

"You'd abuse my kindness like that?" Shadow Milk gasps in faux affront, clutching his free hand to his chest. "Why, Nilly, that sounds quite out of character for you!"

"Were you to mind, you would tell me so. You never cease to remind me of that." Pure Vanilla chuckles, shaking his head. "It is not so much abuse of your charity, either. Rather… your charity has made it impossible for me to act in any other way."

"Oh?" Shadow Milk glances at him curiously, but if any answers were to be gleaned from Pure Vanilla's expression, Shadow Milk was not in possession of the knowledge and skills necessary to do so. "Now, how am I supposed to take that? Whatever do you mean, my dear Nilly?"

"Oh, you are far from incapable, my dear Bluebird." Pure Vanilla responds, pressing closer to Shadow Milk for a brief moment. Shadow Milk only just barely keeps himself from stumbling, he's really not anywhere near a physical state able to withstand much of Pure Vanilla's manhandling. "You can piece it together, I'm sure. Although, you needn't take the effort. I'll tell you, some day. Perhaps sooner than you think."

"That almost sounds like another game proposal, Nils," Shadow Milk grins. "I'm not opposed to another, you know."

"Hm," Pure Vanilla hums, pursing his lips as his brow furrows. An exaggerated expression, for the sake of amusement, one that he's barely able to restrain himself from breaking with a smile. "I'll come up with a better game, I think. More stakes, more equal play. The last few games were more one-sided, weren't they?" Pure Vanilla smiles again, adjusting until he could hold Shadow Milk's hand, squeezing gently. "It's more fun if you aren't guaranteed to win, isn't it?"

"So, so true, my dear!" Shadow Milk responds brightly. "I suppose I'll just have to anticipate whatever fun game you plan for us, won't I?" He snickers, with a wink. He intends to say more, but they're swiftly interrupted by shrieking laughter, a sound that Shadow Milk recognizes with a wince. That is certainly one way to be reminded of the many, many cookies surrounding them.

As swiftly as he's brought back to reality, Pure Vanilla seems to realize where they are with just as much of a jarring start. The trouble, it seems, with dreaming together so often is that you get used to privacy where there should be none; the world fades away into that same haze of the dreamscape, and you forget for a moment that you're awake at all. Pure Vanilla doesn't take this very poorly, really, just smiling at Shadow Milk sheepishly before turning back to continue walking after Candy Apple and Dark Cacao, especially as it sounds like she's gotten herself into something Shadow Milk may need to interfere in. Shadow Milk is a bit more rattled, though he doesn't show it.

"Hope Candy's sparring partner knows what they're in for." Shadow Milk muses, before they push past the, apparently, gathering crowd. He's not, truly, all that worried about it. Candy Apple knows just enough restraint to sell her act, so before they see her opponent he's only got a tired expression prepared. Only, once he sees who she's facing, his face scrunches up as he scoffs disbelievingly. "Really?"

"Well, if everyone else was busy…" Pure Vanilla starts, giving a half shrug as he sighs. "Dark Cacao doesn't tend to renege on his word, even if it was not technically a promise."

"Just so long as he doesn't kill her, and she doesn't kill him." Shadow Milk responds with a tired sigh, leaning his weight into Pure Vanilla's side as he narrows his eyes. Because, of course, Dark Cacao has decided not only to give a feral child a sword, but also to be the one to train said feral child. And that would, likely, be why a small crowd is forming around this one particular training circle. To be fair, it is a very interesting sight. "I'm never bringing her back here."

"I'm sure Dark Cacao would be very disappointed to hear that," Pure Vanilla responds. He's probably right. Candy Apple does have that natural charm, after all. Who could say no to a child so eager and excited to learn? Shadow Milk certainly can't bring himself to stop her now, not after seeing how her eyes gleam and how bright she grins as she lifts her training sword up with both hands. And, no doubt, formal training of some sort could do her some good. Theoretically.

"Maybe once a month, if she asks really nicely." Shadow Milk relents.

Chapter Text

"Ew." Candy Apple sticks out her tongue as she looks up at the airship. Shadow Milk pats her shoulder gently, grinning with only a touch of malice when she looks his way. "Can't we take some other ship?" She asks, eyes wide and lips pouting, the almost perfect puppy-dog eyes. As if that would work, or had ever worked, on him. He's not feeling particularly inclined towards changing the already set plans, either, when it's so clear she dislikes them. She is in trouble, and in lieu of a real punishment mildly petty acts will suffice for the moment.

"Nope! This is what we have, and if we're going to return home before your brother starts to worry, then it's what we need to take. It's not like either of us can fly ourselves, after all!" Shadow Milk snickers, before lightly pushing her back into movement. She scowls, but relents anyhow, not like she has much of a choice. She's the first on the ship, and he's quick to follow. In the brief window of time before Black Raisin clambers aboard, Shadow Milk continues. "We'll be able to portal back the moment we land, or fairly close to it. If you wanted to spare yourself the ride, then you shouldn't have showed up. Or, at least, you should have been better at hiding."

"No one else noticed me!" She whines, and Shadow Milk quickly grabs her by the shoulders to move the both of them out of Black Raisin's path. "I was perfect."

"You know, this is why half of Dark Cacao's soldiers are convinced you're both trained in espionage, not actors." Black Raisin snips, though thankfully it seems she's only overheard a small fraction of that conversation. She missed the comment about portals, and really that's all they needed her to miss. "Why is your only problem that you caught her?" Pure Vanilla is the last aboard the ship, the cookies on the landing taking the ramp away and untying the moors.

"It's not my only problem, of course, but I always have to scrutinize her performance. A good actress melts into the role, fully embodies it! If I can pick her from a lineup as the odd one out, she still has some work to do." Shadow Milk nods solemnly, once again moving himself and Candy Apple out of someone's path. This time a crew member, hurrying to lower the sails. They should probably move below deck soon enough. "The bigger issue is that she's here, but I'll settle that at home, alongside her brother."

"If he's home," Candy Apple grumbles, letting out a whine when Shadow Milk pinches her cheek for the comment.

"He'll be home, and if he's not, then I'll just drag him home myself." Shadow Milk clicks his tongue with a shake of his head. "Run off to our cabin, brat. I'll get you out for dinner in an hour."

"But—!" Candy Apple starts to argue, but after a sharp glance she wilts as she cuts herself of with a groan. She's not pushing her luck, surprisingly, but that's a very good thing. Easier on Shadow Milk, even if it was strange for her. It might have been the massive amounts of energy she'd expended learning how to use a longsword. Who knows.

"How much for you to make me a serving?" Black Raisin asks, her crow cawing as if it were trying to ask for dinner as well. Shadow Milk scrunches up his face as he looks her over, grimacing as if the idea of cooking for her was distasteful, even though he'd done it before when they were camping. Then, he shrugs, expression returning to his usual bored affect.

"So long as you don't complain with whatever I make, you can take a plate. I don't do requests but I can double a serving size." Shadow Milk jabs a thumb over at Pure Vanilla, who has been trying to escape since the moment food was mentioned. "Have to for his sake anyhow, right? Waste not, and all, a two-serving dish doubled feeds four."

"Fine by me. Thanks, Malted Milk." Black Raisin smiles as she turns to walk down the stairs, Candy Apple following her after a quick glare at Pure Vanilla. It only takes a second before Candy Apple is back to energetically pestering her, and holding her hands out for Black Raisin's crow to flit to her and nestle in. She's surprisingly gentle with the thing, compared to how she's always treated the rabbits.

"It's quite nice to see you and Black Raisin getting along. I'd have thought you'd both clash more, ultimately…" Pure Vanilla muses as Shadow Milk joins him in retreating below deck. "I'm happy to be wrong, though."

"She's not so intolerable, I'll admit. Of your friends, she's probably the least irritating. Doesn't say much, though, for the company you keep." Shadow Milk teases, the edge to his words dulled despite his efforts. Pure Vanilla doesn't seem to be bothered this time, rather tolerant of Shadow Milks barbs for once. Or perhaps he can hear how facetious Shadow Milk is being. In either case, Pure Vanilla's contented smile doesn't falter, and his responding hum is rather cheery.

"You are included in the company I keep, you are aware?" Pure Vanilla asks.

"Obviously I'm an outlier, and should not be counted." Shadow Milk responds, hand over his heart as he preens. "You are blessed to even be in my presence, impossibly blessed. None could compare."

"Of course, how could I be so foolish?" Pure Vanilla responds with a fond smile and a roll of his eyes, tone good-natured. "Though, I feel you are right about one thing."

"I'm right about many things—" Shadow Milk starts, only to freeze as Pure Vanilla places a hand under his chin. It's a quick movement, incredibly brief and surprisingly gentle for what constitutes as actual manhandling, compared to what Shadow Milk has exaggeratedly complained about before. A simple movement, just turning Shadow Milk's head enough that Pure Vanilla could place a quick peck on his cheek, before immediate retreat. Pulling back and away as if he'd not done a thing, same contented expression as before— except perhaps a bit smug.

"I am blessed to have you here, and I am so grateful you indulged me in this vacation, even though nothing obliged you. So, truly, thank you." Pure Vanilla tilts his head as he smiles, eyes opened just slightly as he watches Shadow Milk's frozen expression for just a moment. Though, when it becomes apparent that Shadow Milk has been stunned speechless, Pure Vanilla simply delicately covers his mouth with a hand and lets out the smallest little chuckle, light like bells, before continuing on his way.

Leaving Shadow Milk stood alone in the kitchen doorframe like an idiot.

Though it takes a few more seconds of dumbfounded staring down the hallway Pure Vanilla had disappeared down, Shadow Milk eventually recovers enough to act. He grits his teeth and clenches his fists as he growls, whipping around to stomp into the kitchen with burning cheeks and incandescent rage boiling in his gut.

That Pure Vanilla, thinking he could just— just—! Just make an absolute fool out of him without any second thought! That he could just— do that to him without consequence, that Shadow Milk would let him get away with that indignity!

He mutters low curses to himself as he slams the cabinets open and closed, picking ingredients out of shadows when need be, as he begins to prepare a meal for four and a bird. He'd make it three, but Pure Vanilla would just love the excuse to skip a meal, and Shadow Milk would not give him any joy after this slight! Pure Vanilla will just have to eat this meal, and like it. Perhaps Shadow Milk will have to choose one of his more extravagant and decadent recipes. Just make Pure Vanilla regret it all the more.

And he'll make sure to make their dreams tonight extra insufferable for Pure Vanilla, too. He'll have to find some place to sleep given he'd already promised Candy Apple the bed in their cabin, but he's sure he can manage that. Worst case he'll just sleep in the kitchen, he's about the only one who uses it anyhow. The risk may just be worth it.

He doesn't know how he's been roped into this.

"— so Saphhy and I went to the market in the Vanilla Kingdom, and I found this suuuper pretty brooch I absolutely loved! But we had to leave it, 'cause the seller was really attentive and I hadn't nabbed enough coins for something like a brooch—" Candy Apple rambles cheerfully, as if she's not illustrating every single one of her misdeeds while he was gone. It's not even very useful, as she still refuses to elaborate much more on Black Sapphire's indiscretions other than "he snuck out to see his plaything", which was much too vague. But she seems happy to yammer on, he's not doing much else, and she's yet to sleep.

It's terribly late, but that's always been a problem for those who live in the Spire. Sleep was hard to come by, for a little girl with too much energy in her small frame, a young man who woke at every little shift in the air, and an immortal Beast that didn't need (nor generally want) to sleep in the first place. They manage well, likely due to the Spire's inconsistencies regarding time, but lately that's been… less consistently inconsistent. Yet, still, Candy Apple retains the robust flexibility of childhood that makes a lack of sleep, while still unideal and largely detrimental, almost ignorable in its effects. To Shadow Milk's chagrin.

"An illusion might have worked, you know." Shadow Milk clicks his tongue, running a comb through her hair with only half a thought. For how short her hair is, this kind of upkeep wasn't a frequent necessity. Ordinarily, she'd do it herself. But he couldn't just sit by and watch as she nearly tore her own head off trying to get through what few tangles there were, so here he is. Just awful, the situations he ends up in. "Not that hard to cast on an object, compared to yourself."

"Yeah, but we were pretty much gonna be the only suspects after. We woulda been the last ones to touch it." Candy Apple sighs. She leans into the touch as Shadow Milk runs the comb through a final time, having gotten all of the tangles out a number of minutes ago. Again, her hair is quite short. Getting longer, ever so slowly. A sign that time can reach them again, he thinks. He doesn't know how to feel about it, really. He wont think about it. "Anyways, after that we went home, pretty much. It was nice. I missed playing in the cities and villages with Black Sapphire."

Shadow Milk raises a hand only to stall for a moment, before ultimately rolling his eyes at his own hesitance and patting her head. "You'll have plenty of time for that after your punishments are over with. And, let me tell you, you'll both be waiting a long time for that, now." He ruffles her hair, messing up all the effort went into making it neat and prim. So long as it doesn't tangle, it doesn't matter. She's going to bed soon, anyhow. She protests anyhow, squeaking as she flails to push his hand away, though with less force and effort than she would if it actually bothered her. This was just… playing. "And waiting even longer if you don't sleep. This flight is going to be almost fourteen hours in total, dear. At least half of that should be spent asleep, keep off the boredom. There's not much to do here."

"Not my fault!" She whines, despite it being almost entirely her fault. "We could just leave, though. You can go anywhere you want, whenever!" She flops dramatically onto her stomach, splaying out over the bed and giving him very little space to dodge her flying limbs. She rolls over to pout at him, crossing her arms petulantly with a huff. "Why bother pretending you can't for a buncha weak cookies? Pure Vanilla knows who you are."

She scrunches up her face in distaste, though by now it's not like she hasn't got a good idea of why this charade exists. Has to, rather. She's smarter than he ever gave her credit for, granted, but Shadow Milk has never thought her completely stupid. If she didn't know then she at least she had a well-educated guess.

"It's all part of a game between Nilly and I," Shadow Milk says, waving dismissively as he floats up off the bed. She sits up to watch him as he drifts across the room to land on a chair he'd stolen from some other cabin, perched rather precariously on the backing rather than the seat. If he couldn't float, and if he weren't light as air, then he'd certainly fall. "And you don't need to know more than that, now do you? It's not really something that matters for you." Candy Apple scowls, but doesn't respond immediately other than to toss the sheets up to hide underneath them. "It's not going to take me away again, at the least. I'm better off toting you around with me than trusting you to actually listen when it counts."

"It's dumb, though. You never kept us in the Spire like this before!" Candy Apple peeks out from under the covers for just a moment before ducking away again, lying down and grabbing a pillow to squeeze. He can't tell if she's lying intentionally, or if she just doesn't remember.

"I have, and for very similar reasons, actually." Shadow Milk snips back, rolling his eyes. Candy Apple grumbles something he doesn't bother trying to discern, it doesn't really matter, but settles down fine enough. He waits until her breathing evens out and she was clearly, obviously, asleep before pushing off the chair and back into the air, drifting until he was in front of the cabin door and landing on his feet only when he'd donned the mask of Malted Milk once more. After only one more check to ensure she was sleeping, he slips out of the door again.

He hadn't been serious about sleeping this night, he knew circumstances were that it would be an incredibly bad idea no matter which way you cut it, but it was about halfway through dinner that he'd stood and a fresh wave of insufferable vertigo and pain had taken hold of him. He's been pushing his limits, and he's been aware of that, but if he wanted just one more day before he had to crash completely and utterly, he'd need to sleep.

The option to rest in his Other Realm is there, but the chances he could predict the path of the flight to allow his exit to deposit him exactly where he wished is slim. It's the most secure place, however, and for certain it's the one that'll be most effective for him. A rest there, even briefly, is vastly more effective than one in the ordinary world. So if he could measure the approximate size of the ship, figure the relative placement of his cabin, and get a look at the flight plans to see where it would be traveling, he could likely figure out the best place and time to exit to place him exactly where he'd be expected to be—

"Shadow Milk…?" Shadow Milk flinches with a yelp, stumbling backwards and tripping over himself, landing on his back with an oof as all the air escapes his lungs. As he lays there, winded, a familiar concerned annoyance enters his view, frowning down as he leans over him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"Yeah, yeah, too late for regrets, Nils." Shadow Milk grumbles, rolling his eyes as he accepts the offered hand up. "And wrong name, again. Could you at least think a little bit, even with your addled old brain?"

"It's late, no one sane is awake." Pure Vanilla argues, blinking drowsily as he rubs his eye with his free hand. Even once Shadow Milk is pulled to his feet, Pure Vanilla doesn't let go.

"No one sane associates with you." Shadow Milk growls back, before pausing, glancing over Pure Vanilla a couple times. "You finally admitting something, doll? You're definitely some form of awake at this hour." Shadow Milk doesn't quite manage the teasing tone he's aiming for, but it's late. Pure Vanilla will not remember a thing about this exchange, let alone the concern Shadow Milk may show now. In the dark, without his staff, Pure Vanilla can not see anything.

Pure Vanilla flinches, for whatever reason. His face gains an embarrassed flush as his eyes widen almost comically, though in the darkness it would be hard to see for anyone but Shadow Milk. Pure Vanilla is stunned silent for a moment, lips slightly parted in surprise, but it doesn't last for very long. A few seconds is all it takes for him to recover, covering his mouth with his fist as he turns his head to politely clear his throat, flush fading though his smile remains tinged with that embarrassment.

"Ah, yes, you mean… right." Pure Vanilla chuckles slightly, tiredly, before breaking himself off with a yawn. "No, you need not worry about my, as you say, 'addled,' mind. I simply couldn't sleep, and I hoped something to drink might help soothe my thoughts enough to allow it."

"You're barely holding yourself up there, Nils. Must be something pretty distracting keeping you awake when you're practically knocking on the dreamscape's door." Shadow Milk responds, sighing as he turns to start pulling Pure Vanilla along. As he'd guessed, the exhausted old fool doesn't think twice about following.

"Oh, certainly." Pure Vanilla responds, slowly blinking as he smiles syrup-sweet at Shadow Milk. His steps don't come fast, and to keep the both of them from falling it's necessary for Shadow Milk to slow to his pace. "Though, for the most part, it's the nice sort of distracting. I don't mind it at all."

"Cryptic," Shadow Milk mutters. But he supposes, with Pure Vanilla so clearly struggling, he won't try to pry any more clarity from him. Likely, he'll just get more nonsense, and he'd rather not have to puzzle through more of Pure Vanilla's weirdness today than he absolutely must. Besides, soon they'll meet in dreams. Shadow Milk can get clarity then, when Pure Vanilla is actually capable of giving it. "You're better off going to bed, even just closing your eyes is going to be more effective than drinking some tea or whatever you were planning on having."

"Would you stay with me?" Pure Vanilla asks, a question so startling Shadow Milk stumbles to a stop and whirls to face him with a sneer and burning cheeks. "There would be space enough, for the both of us."

"No. Never." Shadow Milk hisses, but Pure Vanilla's smile doesn't waver. Shadow Milk clicks his tongue as he turns around again, ripping his hand out of Pure Vanilla's grip to cross his arms and keep himself at a distance. "Is it not enough to see me in your dreams?"

"No, never." Pure Vanilla responds, all too sweetly even as he punctuates his words with a yawn. "Does that mean I shall see you tonight? It's been some time. You haven't slept much, on our visit." Pure Vanilla finally frowns again, with another sleepy blink as he stumbles in step to draw close enough to place his chin on Shadow Milk's shoulder and wrap his arms around his waist. Shadow Milk bristles, but can't bring himself to move. "Please, stay with me? I wish to know you've rested well, and safely."

His breath is warm on Shadow Milk's neck, his face much too close for comfort. Shadow Milk grits his teeth and stubbornly ignores him for as long as he's able— which, shamefully, isn't very long at all. "You just want to squeeze me like I'm some doll."

"That, too." Pure Vanilla admits with a breathy chuckle that tickles against Shadow Milk's neck. "I'll only have you in my dreams, after this. Won't you indulge me these final hours?"

"I think I've done plenty indulging already!" Shadow Milk snaps, only to immediately regret raising his voice and freezing. He covers Pure Vanilla's mouth with his hand, listening carefully for any hint of having woken someone, of alerting them to the altercation in the halls, but other than Pure Vanilla's slow breathing, there's no sound. Shadow Milk lets out a long and tired sigh, slumping back against Pure Vanilla and rolling his eyes as the fool tightens his squeezing hold. "You're not going to experience any more or less time with me here whether or not I'm in your cabin, anyhow." Shadow Milk adds in a low hiss, hands finding purchase over Pure Vanilla's wrists, readying himself to pry him off.

"But I want you with me." Pure Vanilla responds, frustratingly emphatically. But after only a moment more of silence, Pure Vanilla sighs and begins to retreat. Shadow Milk finds himself, to his great frustration, disappointed by this. He has to make real effort to keep himself from holding Pure Vanilla there. "I'm sorry. I should take your answer for what it is. I… truly, I would hate to bother you any more."

Shadow Milk clicks his tongue once again, narrowing his eyes as Pure Vanilla begins to shuffle past. The shambling, half-asleep fool looks truly pathetic, eyes drooping in exhaustion and disappointment both. Pure Vanilla couldn't hide it if he tried. Shadow Milk watches him go, for a moment, before silently beginning to follow.

As tired as he is, Pure Vanilla doesn't notice until he's reached his cabin door, and really only because once he had swung it open Shadow Milk had caught it and held it so that it didn't hit Pure Vanilla on the way in. For a moment it nearly doesn't register, Pure Vanilla blearily blinking at him before he smiles so wide Shadow Milk nearly worried he'd crack his dough from the strain.

"Just easier than what I had planned." Shadow Milk grumbles, pushing Pure Vanilla by the shoulder and closing the door behind them both. "This is the last time I'll ever share a bed with you, so you'd better enjoy it."

"Certainly!" Pure Vanilla responds with a joyous, if drowsy and quiet, chuckle.

Shadow Milk drops the mask of Malted Milk as he waves a hand to lock the door and put up a small ward to keep it tamper-proof, allowing Pure Vanilla to take his hand as he raises his feet off the ground in a free float. He does not resist Pure Vanilla's pull, allows him to drag him into bed and complies when he tucks them under the sheets together.

He doesn't even fight it when Pure Vanilla draws him close, wraps him in his warm arms, and as Shadow Milk finds his face tucked close under Pure Vanilla's chin, he lets himself relax. Just slightly. Melting into this touch, as foreign as it is, because what else is he to do?

He's just the sort to take advantage of these things, when he is able. He can't really help himself, as bitter as that truth is. Pure Vanilla is too strong a draw, and the free affection he offers much too tempting.

It's easier to sleep when he can hold something close, easier to relax when he smells that sweet vanilla scent. He's missed dreaming, too. Loathe as he is to admit it. So with one final grumbled complaint, he closes his eyes and nestles in.

Chapter Text

Shadow Milk is careful to avoid crushing the flowers as he lands, waving to the few with eyes with a bright smile as he shakes off the droplets he'd collected when flying through the rain. The storm hasn't quite reached her garden yet, but it's not like the space is immune to weather. Even if she chooses to have the canopy block the most of it, it's not like her garden will remain entirely dry.

He waits for her arrival, rather than futilely attempting to seek her out. His visit today was, technically, an unplanned one. All things considered, it was more polite to announce his presence now rather than wander into any areas she may not wish for him to.

He's come, mostly, because he's lost a few of his own flock. Knowing how close her garden is, even if it was still at least a couple weeks walk away, it's not unreasonable to expect them here. They'd been upset with him, after all. He'd thought they were ready to hear the truths he had to offer, but alas. They never are, and truly he should have learned that by now. The lies are accepted much more smoothly, and he really should just stick to them. No matter how "dedicated" his students may be.

He doesn't really intend to draw them back, mostly just ensure they're where he thinks they are. There's an awful lot of hazards before her Paradise may be reached, after all, and his academics were not… suited for the journey, most times. Especially when they don't know where they're going. He doesn't give them directions, for times exactly like this.

The tiniest bit of pain, and they flee like rats. Scattering towards the most promising, pleasurable locale they may race towards. It's utterly repugnant, an insult, as if they hadn't knocked on his door and asked for it—

"Professor!" Shadow Milk cools his head, running his hand over his hair and shaking out any sticky shadows. He's been having an awful time shaking off the remnants of some spell or two he's cast, lately, but thankfully he's always had great control over his form. He turns to face the delightful little bundle of dough he often finds himself greeted by, nowadays, rather than dear Sugar herself. "You're not meant to teach me today."

"No, no, I'm not here for that, I'm afraid!" Shadow Milk responds, smiling wide at his most precious student, the only one who doesn't flee from bitter truths. Even if Caster Sugar told him to tone down such lessons. (Hardly fair, actually, given he actually likes the more painful stories Shadow Milk offers.) "Pavlova, dearest, tell me, has anyone new wandered in to the Garden, as of late?"

"Not yet, I think." Pavlova responds, wings fluttering as he makes a slightly awkward landing among the flowers. A few petals scatter at the roughness of his landing, but the boy has only existed a few years yet. He'll have time to learn the gentle touch life requires. "You're the only visitor we've had from the West, at least."

"Ah, dreadful news, then." Shadow Milk sighs, peering back in the direction of his beloved spire. "Seems they didn't make the trip, or they'd have beaten me here." Shadow Milk states rather matter-of-fact, before turning his attention back to Pavlova. "But, I'm here! Though it wasn't planned, do you think we'd have time for a lesson before Caster comes to greet me?"

"She'll be on her way soon…" Pavlova responds, frowning slightly as he glances over Shadow Milk. "You are very… something, today. Your heart looks weird, kind of… It's hard to see. Very muddy. Like—"

"Ah, tsk tsk tsk! That's not what you're designed to see, now is it?" Shadow Milk's smile sharpens, head jerking to tilt as he lifts off the ground and crosses his arms. "Lovely boy, here's a truth for you: I am not one of the guests you help in the garden, so the matter of what lies in my heart isn't for you to pay any mind to. Don't go looking for it, understand?"

Pavlova frowns, looking quite prepared to argue, as he is wont to do. Shadow Milk knows how it goes, as this is how every lesson of theirs begins now. Pavlova looks into Shadow Milk's heart, finds it more rotten than the last time, and demands that he has every right to know business that is well beyond him. Used to be charming, but as of late, Shadow Milk's found his patience being tried.

"Forget it all! My dear boy, lets just focus on our lessons, now shall we? I think today we'll discuss the Flour Mountains! You liked learning of the fauna there, yes?" Shadow Milk interrupts before he may even start, crossing his legs under himself and placing his hands on his ankles, returning to a falsely pleasant demeanor.

This is satisfying enough for Pavlova, who isn't allowed outside the Garden. Not that far, or for very long, at least. He accepts the redirection easily, settling in to listen to the ramblings Shadow Milk hardly pays any attention to himself. In the past, their lessons held more substance, ideas and concepts more relevant to Pavlova's role in mind and discussions more active and contemplative— all done away with, now, given Shadow Milk's packed schedule and Caster Sugar's sensitivities limiting any topic to the most inoffensive surface-level information available. Though, it's not like he cares much about what he's got to say just to shut Pavlova up for a time.

Of course, this is about when Pavlova disappears. Shadow Milk cuts himself off, confused in the moment as he whirls around to look for his favorite student, only for the realization that this was all, yet again, just another dream to wash over him like a cold wave. Pure Vanilla sits among Caster Sugar's— or, Eternal Sugar's, he supposes— garden fringes, peering over the foreign and bizarre flora she'd cultivated so carefully.

Shadow Milk makes sure he's presentable, as in not in that ridiculous get up he'd worn as the Fount, before drifting over to greet him properly. Pure Vanilla looks quite stunned to be in such a lush place; in fairness, all he's seen of Caster's old stomping grounds were the terribly dull "homes" she'd built to mimic the mortals of the time, not her garden. Even if it were just a faulty remembrance of it, it certainly spoke more of her character than anything else Pure Vanilla would have seen.

"Off the flowers, Nilly. They're delicate." Still, even if they're just a memory, even if he hasn't cared about her stupid garden in eons, he hates to see her work trampled on. She cares so much for the life in her garden. It's something Pure Vanilla and her would see eye to eye on, even if her… present incarnation remains much too extreme for any reasonable cookie.

Pure Vanilla whips his head up to see him, blinking for a moment in confusion before glancing down, gasping in shock as he sees the poor poor flowers he'd landed in upon falling asleep. Shadow Milk grabs his hands to help pull him to his feet, careful to swing him onto a path instead of the many surrounding flower patches. Shadow Milk lets go once Pure Vanilla has found his footing, and takes a moment after to find and retrieve Pure Vanilla's staff for him. Just to keep him from stumbling over the flora searching for it himself.

"Where are we?" Pure Vanilla asks, spinning slowly with the staff in hand, taking in the wondrously strange sights. Though, the fringes are hardly the most interesting parts of her garden. Caster Sugar had an impressive reach to begin with, and Eternal Sugar only gained more. "I've never seen a place with such diversity, and I swear some of these flowers have been documented as extinct!"

"Of course you would have seen them before." Shadow Milk scoffs, turning over to float on his back, eyes narrowed as he sneers at a particularly snoopy flower. The eye immediately backs off when met with his glare, but plenty more turn to look their way. How grateful he is that this is just a dream. "Yeah, she's got a lot of difficult plants, she's a difficult monster herself. Her garden probably doesn't look like this anymore, though. I think this is… only two? Three years? Something like that, three years before we really took a tumble."

Pure Vanilla turns his head up to face Shadow Milk, frowning slightly as he tilts his head. "Her garden, you say… ?" He asks, taking the first step down the path. Shadow Milk drifts along to follow, lowering just enough to keep Pure Vanilla from having to crane his neck. You could never say that he didn't do an awful lot of nice things for that cookie.

"Yes, yes, her garden, Eternal Sugar's garden, the Garden of Delights, Paradise of Sloth, whatever you want to call it." Shadow Milk responds flippantly, with a dismissive flap of his hand. "Maybe a few weeks walk from the Spire, Eastward. You could visit it one day, if you're not concerned with leaving after that."

"Eternal Sugar's garden…" Pure Vanilla lowers his head again, angling his staff to take another glance around, humming softly. "It's certainly beautiful, but… what was that, about leaving?"

"No one leaves her paradise. It is Paradise, after all. Who would even want to?" Shadow Milk sighs, turning over again and drifting closer, placing his hands on Pure Vanilla's shoulders and allowing him to keep them both moving. "Sugar makes you want to stay, by any means. Leaving isn't in line with her plans. She wants to free cookies from their suffering, with… her methods, but I won't get into it more than that. In any case, a cookie stepping foot in the garden is a lot like a fly falling into a pitcher plant."

"There's not a way out once you're in." Pure Vanilla surmises, face shifting in discomfort. "Eternal Sugar, the keeper of the Paradise of Sloth, she's Hollyberry's other half? I believe I recall that much. Doesn't sound like she's the kind to seek conflict, from what you say. Not with malicious intent, anyhow."

"Such a clever cookie, gold stars!" Shadow Milk chirps, clasping his hands to his cheeks briefly before draping himself more heavily over Pure Vanilla's shoulders, cheek pressing against Pure Vanilla's collarbone. "Yeah, well, this is what Hollyberry has been set to face, as Eternal Sugar was definitely going to bring her here rather than stir up trouble anywhere else. It's been some time since I've been in the garden, so I don't know if she'll be seeing things like this exactly, but she'll be past this point by now. Probably close to the core, if I know Sugar well. She's definitely going to take a shine to Hollyberry."

Pure Vanilla stops walking, stumbling to a jarring stop that for a moment Shadow Milk finds confusing. He drifts upwards to crane over Pure Vanilla, see his expression— ah. Right.

"What do you mean, Shadow Milk? What reason would Hollyberry have to have come here already? Why would you know Hollyberry would be here?" Pure Vanilla asks, voice carefully measured even as both hands grip his staff much too tightly. His calm veneer is shaky, his eyes opened in a determined furrow even as he worries at his lip. Shadow Milk stares, for a moment, before straightening and moving to face Pure Vanilla more seriously.

"So, Hollyberry received a letter inviting her to the garden—" Shadow Milk starts, but as Pure Vanilla's eyes narrow he pauses. Reconsiders. Rolls his eyes with a scoff before continuing. "Okay, so, yes, I sent that letter, but! I didn't do it to harm her! Trust me, if I wanted her harmed, I would have sent her to Spice, Mystie, maybe, but Sugar wasn't going to be the most damaging of us!"

"You sent Hollyberry, to a garden you compared to a predatory plant." Pure Vanilla grinds out, voice shaking. Shadow Milk raises his hands and shakes his head quickly.

"It's not literal! Sugar's got a thing, it's all about preservation! Not that it's all good sunshine and rainbows and all, but she wants every cookie in her garden alive. Stuck forever, yeah, but that's the thing. Forever." Shadow Milk spreads his arms out, gesturing at the encroaching flora, the many eyed flowers creeping in to watch them. "And I didn't do it maliciously! Not entirely, anyways, I wanted to give Hollyberry a little nudge to help out Sugar but— but you know how Hollyberry is! She was raring for a fight, jumping at every shadow, worrying her head off!"

"Are you trying to tell me you did such a dangerous thing for Hollyberry's sake, then?" Pure Vanilla asks, tone scathing, in pure disbelief. "Tell me why I should believe that! You barely know Hollyberry!"

"Hollyberry's fun! I like her company! She's… like how Sugar was, before." Shadow Milk responds, tone becoming more subdued as he lowers himself, his defensive anger fizzling out. His feet touch the ground, and he crosses his arms as he slumps against a giant leaf that comes to catch him. "I… didn't want her to burn herself trying to predict someone who's methods were going to draw this whole thing out. Hollyberry was going to seek her anyways, it's just that now Hollyberry has a bit more of an edge. She's not as frayed and frazzled as Sugar would have liked her to be. She can withstand the temptations of the garden better, going now rather than after she'd reached the end of her rope. I won't say I did it entirely out of charity, you know better and it's pointless to even try, but I did have more than just Sugar in mind when I did it."

Though it was an impulsive decision made in the moment, he knows that's likely true to an extent. He hasn't thought much of it before, he doesn't much care to examine his reasoning for his actions, but if he was going to give any… although, perhaps he did it for another reason. A definitely selfish one, he can't do any less, but he doesn't think a bad one. He's certainly too far gone to make any return to how he was before, and he doesn't want to, but if there's something Sugar wants it's to be Caster Sugar again. Maybe not in name, but in role, and if there's anything he wants, it's for her to be how she was. Hollyberry, a cookie with drive and Passion and someone Sugar is absolutely going to adore, could perhaps bring her back to that state; or maybe at the very least, push her in that direction. Pure Vanilla has… certainly trimmed Shadow Milk's claws, for the most part, after all. Perhaps someone like Sugar, who doesn't want to be a Beast, could be drawn back by her other half more effectively.

He certainly doesn't think he'd been intentionally wanting things to go that way, but maybe subconsciously. It's certainly not something he doesn't hope for now that he's thought of it.

"Do you mean that?" Pure Vanilla asks, voice firm in a way he isn't rarely (but certainly isn't commonly) like with Shadow Milk. "So if Hollyberry were to defeat Eternal Sugar, and return home?"

"I'm on Sugar's side, of course. But I'll gladly go drink with Hollyberry again. It's got nothing to do with me, ultimately." Shadow Milk responds with a shrug, glancing up at Pure Vanilla. Pure Vanilla's expression is, for a moment, still angry. Or upset, rather— anger is a sharper emotion than whatever Pure Vanilla wears now. But after a moment, his face falls, something like weary relief taking it's place as he turns away from Shadow Milk.

"I… will need to think about this." Pure Vanilla starts, slowly. "I'm still upset you've done this, but…" he pauses, before turning to face Shadow Milk with a determined expression, chin up and shoulders set, fists clenched as they hung at his sides. "You will check on her, then. Make sure that Hollyberry is alright, and tell me how she fares. If you truly meant this to help her in whatever form, then help her now."

Shadow Milk shoots upright, eyes wide. "Wai-wai-wait, no, I can't!" He stammers, launching into the air to follow as Pure Vanilla turns on his heel and begins to march away, stubbornly ignoring as Shadow Milk tries to make his case. "Sugar will kill me if I step foot in her garden! I'm explicitly not allowed there!"

"Since when has something like that stopped you?" Pure Vanilla responds, turning off the path and stepping over a suddenly appearing grape juice river, one where lily pads drift into place under his feet as he makes his way. It's a level of control he shouldn't be capable of, this is Shadow Milk's dream, but Shadow Milk is too distracted to question it at present. "And, if preservation is her inclination, I see no reason why Sugar would do you harm."

"I'm not a cookie!" Shadow Milk responds, to which Pure Vanilla only scoffs as he hops onto the other bank, greeted by flowers tracking their every move. "Besides, if I go and I help Hollyberry, that's interfering. I already told you, I'm not getting between my friends and yours!"

"You already have." Pure Vanilla whirls to face him, raising a finger to push it into Shadow Milk's face. But it seems that the desperation Shadow Milk feels is rather apparent, because for a moment Pure Vanilla's expression softens. "Aren't you skilled in subtlety? Isn't there a way to help that Eternal Sugar wouldn't note?"

"Look around, Nils. The garden is filled with eyes, even if they're not ones she can use directly. Not all of those eyes belong to plants. Anything that happens in it, she'll know about." Shadow Milk pushes away an eyestalk that's drifted too close. "Maybe I can sneak in, maybe I can see how Hollyberry is doing, but I can't do anything more for her."

Pure Vanilla stares at him for a moment, lips pursed and eyes narrowed, before sighing. "Then just… let me know she's alright. And… tell her to come see me after she wins. First thing."

Shadow Milk has half the mind to say something snarky, some version of I'm not some messenger, but he can tell it's not the time. "Fine. If I can do so without alerting Sugar, I'll give her your message." Shadow Milk sneers. "Anything else?"

Pure Vanilla tilts his head, watching Shadow Milk carefully. "Will you apologize?" He asks, rather simply. "Will you tell me you're sorry, even if it's a lie?"

Shadow Milk blinks, furrowing his brow. "You… what?"

"I do not care if you mean it. Likely, I know you will not. But would you tell me that you are sorry, for sending my friend to a Beast, for not telling me you had done so, and for upsetting me?" Pure Vanilla asks. It's a strange request, even from Nilly, and for a second all Shadow Milk can do is stare.

But he doesn't want this dream to end sour, or this whole trip to wrap up on a bitter note.

"I'm sorry." Shadow Milk lies, crossing his arms and backing up to give Pure Vanilla more space. "I…" he bites his tongue, cutting himself off from going on some other tangent. It's neither necessary, nor is Pure Vanilla likely to appreciate it. Sometimes, the best lies are best kept simple.

Pure Vanilla nods, once, offering the slightest of smiles. "Okay. Then, I suppose I'm not wrong to forgive you for this."

"Even if that was a lie?" Shadow Milk asks, turning to follow as Pure Vanilla begins walking again.

"If it was a lie, then it was a lie for my sake, and not your own." Pure Vanilla responds, glancing back at Shadow Milk. "In any case, I can forgive you for many things. If Hollyberry is truly going to return to me unharmed, then you have helped as you've claimed. There's nothing more to forgive, then, if all the harm you caused were my hurt feelings."

"You shouldn't forgive me," Shadow Milk responds. "I don't get it. I hurt you, and you'll just take it? When will you end this?"

"When you prove to me that you'll never change." Pure Vanilla says, rather matter-of-fact. "And you can't, really. Not when I've seen you these past months. The you I faced in the spire is not the you of now."

"Delusional. Foolish—" Shadow Milk cuts himself off as Pure Vanilla reaches back to grab his wrist, swinging him around to float in front of him.

"Hopeful, as well." Pure Vanilla responds, reaching up to place his hands on Shadow Milk's cheeks. "My dear, I forgive you for my sake, not yours. Allow me this selfishness, please?"

Shadow Milk scoffs. "You call that selfish?" He asks, raising his hands to grip Pure Vanilla's wrists.

"You certainly don't seem to want me to forgive you." Pure Vanilla responds, releasing Shadow Milk only enough so that he may move to entwine their fingers. "But, let's move on. I'd rather us have a pleasant dream tonight, so why don't you show me around the garden?"

Shadow Milk doesn't argue the point any more. After such a firm dismissal, how could he?

Chapter Text

The Spire is quiet when they return, and Shadow Milk finds that Black Sapphire is nowhere to be found. As he could have guessed. Black Sapphire is not so inattentive to miss that Candy Apple had left the spire, and he's definitely clever enough to discern her ultimate destination. If he weren't attempting to put off the consequences for his actions, Shadow Milk would be truly shocked.

He'd rather catch them both before doling out the punishments, though, so Candy Apple gets one last night of grace before the bell tolls. Especially given once Black Sapphire gets home, they have to have a bit of a conversation about the situation— an unproductive one, alas, but what else is Shadow Milk to expect? It will take more than one conversation to convey how truly dire circumstances were; everyone in the spire is stubborn, and Black Sapphire was clearly in no state of mind at the time to be capable of coherence. So, a second attempt later. Hopefully, one that'd go down smoother.

Aside from that diversion, Shadow Milk has other things to plan. His trip to the Garden, which he'll have to figure some safe way to bring Candy and Saph along to, because he's not going to have them chase after him again. His best strategy, currently, is to do his best to weave protection charms into some articles— though, he doesn't really have time to weave entire bolts of fabric together, not with how intricate woven protection charms could get, so maybe he could get away with just embroidery— and trust that his current weakness isn't so apparent that Eternal Sugar would call his bluff and try to keep them by more straightforward means than her usual.

The safest bet is just keeping them out of the Garden entirely. But he doesn't trust them not to follow him, even if he only stays a few hours as he intends. And, knowing Sugar and her rather capricious nature, there's no telling whether she'll want to keep him around or toss him out. More than likely the latter, but he doesn't know what entering the Garden without antagonizing her will earn him. She's the sort to hold grudges, but she plays lip service to the idea that every cookie deserves happiness. He doesn't like the unpredictability of the endeavor, but to act in a way that ensures he knows the outcome would mean he'd never get a chance to approach Hollyberry, and Pure Vanilla is not going to accept that outcome.

Dreadfully, Shadow Milk doesn't want Pure Vanilla mad at him over such a small thing, that matter promises to be both annoying and miserable, so it becomes necessary to do something Shadow Milk has never in his life wanted to do less; play nice with Eternal Sugar.

It isn't that he doesn't like her much; of his friends, she's always been his closest. And even after everything, that doesn't just go away, despite how desperately he wants it to. Eternal Sugar's delusions are even fun, and he loves poking and prodding at the many many lies she tells herself to excuse her behavior and her warped worldview. He's a fan of the whole deal, really. It's just… well. He likes messing with the other Beasts, quite a bit actually! Their reactions are often very fun, satisfying in many ways, and frankly she's had the best ones. Hes not unaware of how that affects their own view of him, but he's a primarily selfish cookie. He'll be as malicious and annoying as he likes. Whether they like him or not is irrelevant, and he'll choose to believe whatever suits him best moment to moment regardless of reality as he's always done.

He's never claimed to like them, either. He likes how they were, and how they are is… fine, but not the cookies he originally cared for and was close to. Those cookies were dead, and the one's who wear their faces now are just shattered reflections. Clean cut lines in his mind he's careful not to cross, because if they blur even the slightest bit then things get quite messy. Though the lines had always been blurred most for Sugar, who has despite everything changed, perhaps, the least of them all. So he likes her, but he really doesn't, and so he prods at her and pesters her the most out of any of them. It's complicated. And he hates thinking about it, so.

Point, in short; he has to go to her Garden, and not mess anything up. No turning the plants carnivorous, no puppeteering her guests and/or helpers, no leading cookies off cliffs. No fun, essentially, but it wouldn't have been very fun anyhow. He doesn't see any point in it, and the thought of acting as he usually would puts a sour taste in his mouth, for some reason. It's not like he's even sure he could, either. Contrary to what you'd think, puppeteering the brainless masses is actually really hard work. Even the stupidest cookie possesses some level of stubborn will that you have to quell to some extent before you can tie up their strings, and that takes energy Shadow Milk… really doesn't have.

He'd take a day to rest but he's not sure if he has that time, so instead in the morning as he makes breakfast for the children he embroiders some leaves on the hem of one of Candy Apple's dresses, muttering quietly to enchant the thread with a number of defensive charms that could only really be improved if he soaked the strings in almond extract, but he's not going to waste time acquiring those things when he knows Eternal Sugar isn't likely to harm them physically. Not in any manner so direct he couldn't prevent it, anyhow. He's determined to get all the preparation done today, allow his minions their time to rest over the night, and leave first thing in the morning. He'll rest himself once they've gotten out of there.

As for anything else they may need… he thinks they could have a safeguard, of sorts. There is a chance, however small, that if Sugar feels his claim on Candy Apple and Black Sapphire is making them unhappy, she'll take them regardless of whether she thinks he can retaliate or not. "Saving victims" and taking them from his clutches directly isn't something he considers outside of possibility, even if it seems too active an approach for her current incarnation. He really doesn't understand her as well as he used to, though. He'll act with caution, and if that means deciding she will act against him, it's not something he'll take lightly. Something to convince her that they want to stay with him would be essential, then. Plus, he can imagine it would be both a very rewarding and a very punishing exercise for them both. They'll definitely learn something, at the least.

He nods firmly to himself, setting down the bowls of a simple breakfast (oatmeal with their favorite fruits,) at each spot at the table. He's sat on his spot by the counter, already digging into his own bowl, when Candy Apple and Black Sapphire both enter. They're both quiet when they sit at their chairs, glancing at Shadow Milk with enough trepidation that, at the least, they could guess he's got their punishment in mind. He'll not drag it out any longer, if only because it'll likely take them all day. And he needs them done before tomorrow, if his planned schedule is to work.

"Your punishment for your latest indiscretions has been decided," Shadow Milk says primly, setting his spoon down in his bowl and looking up at them with a bored affectation. They both stiffen, and Candy Apple quickly ducks her head, hiding her eyes. "It'll unfold in two parts! How fun right?" Shadow Milk grins, tilting his head, waiting for them both to nod along before he continues. "First, I'll have you brew a potion. A very specific potion, and I won't accept any duds! So you'll brew it until you've got a successful batch, and I want it done before you go to sleep tonight. That's part one, and part two… you'll see when you get to it!"

"What about the book?" Candy Apple asks, raising her head and giving up on her faked remorse now that her interest has been piqued. Of course, she wouldn't initially think potion making was a punishment. She's developed quite an interest in the subject, after all. Which is why he even came up with the idea, so really this is all her fault. In more ways than one!

"Book is on hold, I've got a Beast to pester and you lot need to prepare for the trip, because I apparently can't trust you to stay where I tell you." Black Sapphire blinks, slightly stunned, tilting his head slightly. It's impossible to miss the silent curiosity, the unspoken I wonder which Beast that hangs in the air for a moment. "I want you both on your very best behavior, alright? Sugar doesn't tolerate our kind of fun in her Paradise, and I want to bring you home intact, thank you."

"Eternal Sugar Cookie?!" Black Sapphire says, waking up enough to be reasonably alarmed. "I thought you said—"

"Yeah, remember what I said about her? And how I wanted you both nowhere near her? Yeah, that's still the preferable option. But if I'm gone for longer than I expect to be, Candy Apple will chase after me anyways, and you'll keep sneaking off to see your plaything. I don't want either of those things to happen, so you'll be tagging along. So, this time, you're going to do exactly as I say, and be perfect little minions, because otherwise I'm relying on Hollyberry to get you out of the garden, and I don't think she'll be happy to comply if she figures us out!" Shadow Milk snaps, hair writhing weakly behind himself. Really, he's been pushing too hard. He'll have to make an extra effort to keep his frailty hidden.

He takes in a breath, lets it out until his hair has settled down again, and then waves his hand along to bring the articles he'd been working on into view. "Apple Seed Cookie and Grape Pip Cookie are making a final performance, given we'll be seeing Hollyberry. I'll be working on your costumes today, but I'll check your progress on the potion regularly. Be ready to play your roles again. Keep in mind, when Hollyberry asks, we're at the garden because we received an invitation, and keep. It. Vague! I'll elaborate if necessary, but you two will not, under any circumstances, say anything about reasons why you'd be there. No lamenting your poor choices, no frowns. You're cheerful and happy, and only here because you came with me. Got it?"

It likely won't really work, Eternal Sugar's garden was a bit more insidious than just her helpers listening to your spoken problems, the draw is in how pleasant it is in comparison regardless of whether they know or not, but Shadow Milk doesn't need to draw them out of the gardens lure himself. They're loyal to him, and they wouldn't be happy to be without him. They've made that clear enough by now, he supposes. The allure of the easy life can't shake those facts, not if Candy Apple and Black Sapphire are as steadfast as they've made sure to convince him of. Still, all the better not to give anyone any words to pick through and arguments to make. Once the matter turns into a debate, it doesn't matter the reality. It simply matters who can be the most convincing, and the Garden excels at pulling at just the right strings.

"Got it." Black Sapphire responds, frowning down at his oatmeal like it had told him some rather dire news. Perhaps that would have been the more fun way to deliver this speech, Shadow Milk will note it down for the next time he needs to dramatically impart the importance of obedience to his proteges. Given they tend not to listen to him very well. "What potion will we be brewing?"

"Our antithesis, of course." Shadow Milk raises a hand to snap his fingers, summoning a mirage of a ornate little bottle filled with a quite soothing looking silver-blue liquid. "Truth potion," he rolls the r for a moment, to emphasis how ridiculous the notion is, "a draught often sought after when needed to keep a testimony free of flaw, save for personal bias of course. Only forces someone to speak the truth as they see it, not the objective truth. So, really, if someone is retelling a lie they've heard and fell for, it's not even helpful a little bit. I can give you an entire lesson on how to circumvent the effects some other time, but for now, I just want you to recreate this one. It should smell like fresh-picked daffodil when brewed correctly, and taste like whipped cream when consumed. A duration of twelve hours should suffice, so. You'll likely need some special ingredients for that. I'll look at what you've found, Candy, and make a list of what else you'll need. Black Sapphire, you'll be the one in charge of retrieval, given the other matter I need you to handle. Both will set you in the Faerie Kingdom, so just be quick about it! Meanwhile Candy Apple will study up on the brewing methods and get the process started. Given she knows more than you about this for now, just follow her lead. Works out for us all!"

Candy Apple grins the most evil, delighted and toothy grin at Black Sapphire as he slumps in his chair, eyes narrowed and defeated, avoiding looking at anyone. Of course, he'd been rather against the idea of breaking things off with his dear little faerie, so he's not going to be— "Faerie Kingdom will not have any shops open, and I don't know where I'd find things to harvest. They're having a festival, and it's impossible to navigate through it." Shadow Milk hums, leaning back slightly and lifting his bowl off his lap so that he may cross his legs.

An excuse, useful to Black Sapphire's purposes, information Shadow Milk would appreciate before they wasted their time, and probably true. Shadow Milk could press this line, see if Black Sapphire holds against the pressure, but— well. Given Black Sapphire's reluctance to end things, and his reaction when he'd realized that reluctance even existed, Shadow Milk didn't want to make this harder than it absolutely has to be. Black Sapphire's game will end, there's no circumstance under which Shadow Milk will just let him continue on, but Shadow Milk doesn't want it to hurt too badly when it does. Still, better today than any other, and there's no telling how long Sugar will try to keep them if Shadow Milk manages to convince her they weren't there for trouble.

"Then when the sun sets, you'll go attend. I want the matter settled tonight. I'll send you to the Vanilla Kingdom after we take stock, and you'll have an hour to find what you need and return to the portal site. If you're not there when I come to grab you, I'll send Candy after you." Shadow Milk doesn't let Black Sapphire argue any further, twisting his hand to wrap a string around his children's wrists, forcing them to take their spoons and lift a scoop from the bowl. "Now, eat! Busy day ahead, and I don't think I'll have time to prepare more than a light lunch!"

When he releases their wrists, Black Sapphire and Candy Apple quietly comply and eat the spoonful he'd forced them to take. Black Sapphire looking far more frustrated than Candy, but that's to be expected. She thinks she's up to something fun today, and Black Sapphire is having his fun come to an end.

Shadow Milk would, in theory, feel worse about it. If circumstances were different. But given he knows that Black Sapphire is a bit more attached than he usually gets, he's certain this is the right course. If Muscari Faerie disappears now, it's better for all parties involved. If that Knight gets any inkling that Muscari isn't who he says he is, then Black Sapphire will likely not only face the pain of a vicious rejection, but likely the wrath of the Silver Tree Knights too. The former only matters if Black Sapphire cares, but it's pretty clear to Shadow Milk that he does. Quite a bit, actually. So it's better to be the one doing the rejecting, before the worst case.

Even if Black Sapphire doesn't appreciate this, and Shadow Milk is doing something quite out of character for insisting on this course when usually he pays no mind to these matters, it's all for the best. He doesn't want Black Sapphire to be hurt. He's sure Black Sapphire understands at least that much.

Chapter Text

"Here we are!" Shadow Milk says, spreading his arms wide and spinning on his heel to face his delightful little minions, grinning wide despite the strain. "Look! Isn't this so exciting!? Eternal Sugar's Paradise! The most perfect place in all of Earthbread!" Shadow Milk cheers, but he receives no response.

Candy Apple, for her part, is subdued for once. Her natural curiosity is dimmed and her enthusiasm and mischief are but faded embers failing to spark in her eyes, as she shuffles forwards on the path they'd taken with her hands tightly gripping the strap of her messenger bag. She casts a quick glance up at Shadow Milk before flicking to Black Sapphire, before looking down at the grass again. Shadow Milk refuses to let it make him deflate, but…

Black Sapphire has seen better days. His eyes are dull, bags very visible underneath for once, and his hair is disheveled. He's always been so careful about every detail being in place, especially the details that were meant to be out of place, to find any piece of his appearance that wasn't precisely calculated would be impossible. This, isn't that. This is a Saph who didn't bother to comb his hair when he rolled out of bed this morning, this is a Saph who threw on the clothes laid out for him without a second thought. This was, quite frankly, one of the most concerning sights Shadow Milk has seen since his escape from the tree.

Black Sapphire normally applies the "Shadow Milk Method"™ of dealing with problems; if you look like nothing's the matter, then the problems don't exist! A perfectly pressed suit and a carefully combed mane will mask any pain, especially emotional! After all, Black Sapphire had learned from the best. So, what, exactly, did it mean when he failed to do any of that…?

Shadow Milk can't spend any time wondering more, nor any more time worrying over his decision to bring his clearly miserable minions to a garden that feeds on that stuff quite literally, as a rustle in the bushes draws his attention. He whirls again, raising up his hand and summoning his staff to point it at whatever came to greet them. He has an idea, but it pays to be cautious.

"What an interesting group!" Shadow Milk's arm relaxes and he leans back slightly, twirling his staff lackadaisically as, predictably, Pavlova Cookie pops out of the bushes, little wings fluttering at a lightning pace. Pavlova looks both confused, and curious, as he peers over each of them, smiling easily up until he catches sight of the staff in Shadow Milk's hand. His face falls, immediately, and his grip on his bow tightens. It was lax at his side when he'd appeared, but he's capable of discerning a threat. And Shadow Milk is by technicality a threat. "S-Shadow Milk Cookie?!" Pavlova stammers, quickly flitting a few feet further back.

"Dearest Pavlova! How lovely to see you~!" Shadow Milk responds, letting his staff disappear into the air as he clasps his hands against his cheek. "I do ask, however, that you respect our well-crafted disguises today. Treat us as you would any other poor soul who wanders into the garden!"

"Miss Swirl?" Candy Apple asks, hopping closer to Shadow Milk's side and wrapping herself tight around his arm, peering at Pavlova with wide, confused eyes. "Who is this? You know him?" She asks, glancing up at Shadow Milk with a furrowed brow.

"My dear, this is Pavlova Cookie! He's one of Eternal Sugar's little workers, ensuring the Garden operates as it should." Shadow Milk gestures at Pavlova Cookie with his free hand, before switching his attention to Pavlova and gesturing at Candy Apple. "And Pavlova, meet Candy Apple Cookie. Today, please call her Apple Seed." Shadow Milk presses his hand against his chest, smiling haughtily. "And I am Yogurt Swirl, or Miss Swirl, as you'll hear many call me."

Pavlova glances over at Black Sapphire, and it's quite apparent the question there, even though he's likely got a good idea. As far as Shadow Milk knows they've never directly interacted, nor properly met, but they've worked in the same area at least once. Though, while Shadow Milk had made sure to teach Black Sapphire who was who and from where, there's no telling for the others. He's pretty sure none of them knew about Black Sapphire's entire existence, really, given he didn't come into the picture until well after their communication ceased near-entirely. He knows Sugar never heard of him, at the very least, but the others… eh. Shadow Milk doesn't remember every bit of mischief he's ever played, let alone who he's sent to play it for him and when.

"Black Sapphire Cookie," Black Sapphire says. He draws himself up, makes a small effort to correct his posture and dreary expression, but Shadow Milk knows that not going to work on Pavlova. No, in fact, by the shine the fool gets in his eyes, he's seen quite a bit already. Shadow Milk quickly side-steps, blocking Pavlova's sight and drawing his full attention. Black Sapphire glances at Shadow Milk oddly, but he'll appreciate what he's done in a moment.

"Today, he'll be Grape Pip. With that, I assume you'll lead us to where we need to be? I'm sure Eternal Sugar will be just delighted to see me!" Shadow Milk grins, hoping to head off the nonsensical prattle before it gets started, but—

"How are you in love with somebody?!" Pavlova asks excitedly, flittering closer despite his initial suspicion. Shadow Milk grimaces, taking a step back and pushing his children further behind himself, but he'll bear this so long as Pavlova remains distracted from the oh-so-juicy broken heart Black Sapphire undoubtedly possesses. They have to play nice, which means Pavlova can't be brushed aside, which means someone has to make sure that the only wounds he prods are the ones they're prepared to deal with. And, yes, Shadow Milk is prepared to deal with this one. After all, it's not so much an open wound as a festering, infected stitching.

"I thought you were broken or something, I've never seen anything good in your heart, not even anything interesting like a scorned love or lost chance! Just, blegh, all a mess! Impossible to read!" Pavlova gestures at Shadow Milk's entire self, rather awkwardly given the bow and arrow he still clutched in each hand, but it's concise enough to get the point across. "But, wow! This is the most interesting development I've seen yet! Shattered and mended, it's… something like a first love, of sorts? Amazing! You have lot of feelings about it, makes it a bit unclear… and a stubborn rejection of it too! But also a reluctant acceptance, even as you try to bury it? Because… oh, you're scared! Scared of feelings you've never let yourself have before, and scared of them being returned even mor—!"

"Say!" Shadow Milk finally snaps, though he maintains that cheery tone, thankfully. Pavlova freezes, immediately realizes who he's just been prattling about, and retreats back far enough to be out of reach but still close enough that an arrow might hit before a spell could be cast. If, it were anyone else he was targeting. Not that Shadow Milk is going to retaliate; he can't, given why they're even here, but he won't because Pavlova has always been like this. Annoying pest he is, Shadow Milk has a fondness left over for him even so. "Why don't you just scurry off to let Sugar know we're here, and we'll wait for her to welcome us to the Garden! How's that sound?"

Pavlova freezes, as Shadow Milk would have predicted. After all, as soon as Shadow Milk is sighted— "I'll just bring you straight to her! You're, uh—"

"Not meant to be left unsupervised, I'm guessing. Fair enough. I do have a reputation." Shadow Milk grins, shrugging easily as he glances back at his dear minions, who both look rather stunned at the progression of this interaction. "Well, my dear children, let's get going! Eternal Sugar awaits!" Shadow Milk reaches back to take a hand from each of them, squeezing tightly in the hopes that that'll bring them any comfort. He knows it definitely doesn't help him, as they fall into step behind Pavlova.

There's too much that can go wrong. Bringing them at all was a terrible plan, but after seeing the state Black Sapphire was in he should have called it off. Or, perhaps, just left him behind. After all, the reason he would go run off was all over. You could tell from just his face, let alone his attitude. Therefore, no risk, right?

But, then, Shadow Milk didn't want to just leave him alone, and Candy Apple isn't exactly a master of tact and grace. Nevermind the fact that if he were even just an hour later than he'd initially said he'd be, she'd be out the door like lighting. So, that's not an option. And he'd put it off for a day, but then he'd have to dream with Pure Vanilla and explain he doesn't have any answer ready yet, and— ugh.

Sure, Pure Vanilla would have understood the delay. He'd have understood if Shadow Milk had delayed for just his own sake, even. He's like that. But… hm.

Shadow Milk just wants this over and done with. He's got a lot to complain about lately, especially about Pure Vanilla, and the only person he's willing to talk to about that stuff is in the Garden. He wants to drink with her again and sink into plush cushions as he laments his woes, he's waited long enough for it. He's going to make sure Black Sapphire and Candy Apple are safe, of course, but he can't stand not acting now that he has an excuse for it.

He's ready to open a portal at a moments notice, really. He can't do much against Eternal Sugar in the immediate, but he can keep his kids away from her. He's willing to give her a chance to show some restraint, for once. One chance. And if it even looks like she'll take advantage, Black Sapphire and Candy Apple will be home in seconds. And he'll follow, after passing along Pure Vanilla's message to Hollyberry. Primary goal achieved, thing done, gone. There will be plenty more stupid things to risk his own neck doing, but he needs them safe.

Pavlova ducks under a massive leaf, past a number of blinking eyes Shadow Milk barely restrains Candy Apple from poking at. After a whispered don't touch the flowers and Black Sapphire jumping in to take hold of her other hand so they both had a good hold of her, they're able to follow after Pavlova and see… huh. "Not so different, just… bigger." Shadow Milk muses with a half shrug, not really that surprised. Ultimately, Sugar's garden couldn't get more impressive in anything but scale. She's already got every actually interesting plant there is.

Of course, this is just one of many clearings, one filled with her brilliantly soft clouds that Shadow Milk reminds himself not to let his children touch. Sweet dreams are all well and good, but he's worried about the waking afterwards. He draws Candy closer, and swaps hands so he can reach Black Sapphire's shoulder on her other side, just to have hold of both of them once again. For that added security.

He couldn't have been less surprised to see, as Pavlova's gentle flapping wings pass by, Eternal Sugar's face appear from within the fluff. Eyes closed, face lax from sleeping, arms under her head as if she'd needed a pillow with how her clouds are. And faked, of course. Shadow Milk rolls his eyes as she makes a show of slowly rousing, eyes fluttering and arms raised over her head as she daintily yawns.

"Oh, Shadow Milk…" She says, without even glancing at him. Because she already knew he was here, she's got a better lay of the land than she tends to act. She doesn't have all his eyes, but she can sense a presence if they don't try to hide themself. "I wonder, why are you here? I don't suppose you think I'll let you play your games with my dear guests, do you?" Eternal Sugar turns her head, looking at him with a gentle smile and hidden frustration, barely visible in the slightest crease of her brow.

Only, she clearly didn't expect to see his company. Her eyes go wide and her smile falls ever-so-slightly as she tilts her head, taking in the sight of them as Pavlova flits to settle on the cloud beside her to whisper something in her ear. Her wings adjust, sending a bit more of the cloud scattering as they twitch and resettle folded slightly more loosely. Shadow Milk smiles, patting Black Sapphire's shoulder before slipping past the both of them to stand between each party.

"Certainly not! I've just come to check if you've received the gift I sent you, and how you're faring with it. Though, I do have other errands to run. " Shadow Milk grabs one side of his skirt and gives a curtsy, other hand over his heart for flourish. "And, I suppose, it's been long enough that I've kept a secret close to heart, huh?" Shadow Milk lifts his head and straightens, raising each of his hands to gesture at his minions. "May I introduce, my treasures? Black Sapphire Cookie, Candy Apple Cookie, say hello to our gracious host, please."

"A pleasure," Black Sapphire says, managing a polite bow despite his dull tone. Candy Apple smiles rather prettily, with a much more graceful curtsy than she's ever shown capability of before as she echoes much the same.

"Oh, how delightful!" Eternal Sugar says, immediately rising into the air with a strong flap of her wings, incidentally sending Pavlova to lose his balance and sink into the swirls of the cloud, yell swallowed up by the cushiony softness. "Why, aren't you two just so precious!" Eternal Sugar manages to slip past Shadow Milk, and he whirls to keep a careful watch as she buzzes and twitters to gawk at his children. She grabs a hand from each of them, holding them in a manner that looks delicate, but Shadow Milk knows from experience is hard to break out of. "Treasures, indeed, hm?" Eternal Sugar turns her head to look at him over her shoulder, eyes slightly narrowed and smile still carefully plastered on.

"Don't dote on them too much, now. You'll smother them." Shadow Milk responds, crossing his arms and squeezing himself to keep from immediately launching to rip her off them. Their discomfort is apparent, already, and he's not too keen on her having her grubby mitts anywhere near them, but it's too late. He has to play nice. He can't just take such interesting things away from her.

"I would never do such a thing," Sugar responds, letting go of their hands as she turns to face him with a pout. "But, that aside, surely you don't expect me to believe your aims are so innocent? You never visit seeking anything but trouble."

"Can't a cookie change?" Shadow Milk presses his hands to his chest, expression truly hurt. It falls apart into another easy smile in seconds, but that's half the point. "Really, Sugar, you expect so little of me, I'm truly hurt. For once, I've given you the truth! Can't you savor the rare treat you've received?"

"Oh, if I could believe you, I would be quite delighted." Eternal Sugar nods along, rather sedately. With a flutter of her wings she returns to her cloud, just as Pavlova's managed to fight his way back into sitting up. Those things really weren't too conducive for that much. "But I'm afraid I do know better, Shadow Milk Cookie. So, you may leave now!" She tilts her head and closes her eyes, perfectly cheery.

"We won't stay long." Shadow Milk argues, placing a hand on his hip and rolling his eyes. "We have things to be doing, more important than this. I just need to pick a few special ingredients up, alright?"

"And you may not!" Eternal Sugar responds, quite chipper, with a light laugh. "Seek trouble elsewhere, thank you. Sending my other half to me was a kindness, but I know it wasn't charity. I will not repay whatever debt you believe I owe by endangering my dear guests."

"Then why don't you just follow us and make sure we're doing as we'd said?" Shadow Milk responds, making two finger-walking gestures before crossing his arms again. "You know, I'd have thought you'd be more on board with this! I could have just gone ahead to pick the berry I need without speaking with you first. If I was going to cause problems, why'd I waste my time asking to be let in?"

Eternal Sugar hums thoughtfully, tapping her chin a few times before spreading her arms in a lazy shrug. "I suppose, I never know your true intent, do I? I never saw any reasoning behind your actions before."

Shadow Milk gestures at Black Sapphire and Candy Apple, mostly because he doesn't know which one has the item he's asking for. Candy Apple startles into action, rummaging in the folds of her skirt to find her pockets, then finally remembering to look in her messenger bag before pulling out a tiny, minuscule vial. She hurriedly steps forward to drop it in Shadow Milk's hand, and receives a quick head pat for her diligence before she hops back to cling to Black Sapphire's arm.

Shadow Milk holds up the vial between his fingers, making sure to hold it directly in Eternal Sugar's sight. "I'm sure you could guess what this is?" He asks, before quickly tossing it over. Eternal Sugar catches it in both hands and immediately begins examining it, even going so far as to uncork the vial and smell it. After dabbing her pinky inside and taking a very small taste of a drop, she hums again.

"A dose this small will last hardly a minute for you." She says, before passing it along to Pavlova with a smile. "Please, take care not to drop it. He needs every last drop."

"I can't take away all my fun, now can I?" Shadow Milk grins, tilting his head and graciously accepting the returned bottle from Pavlova. "In any case, I'll prove that I'm not here to cause any trouble. And, neither are my dear minions."

"A clever way to prove your sincerity, in a manner." Sugar places a hand to her cheek, humming softly as she watches Shadow Milk drink the vile serum. Her smile curls, just the slightest bit more sincere. "Why, Shadow Milk. Did you truly decide to give up your games for a day?"

The familiar, detestable rush of magic washes over him as the potion dissolves on his tongue. He can't hold back a grimace, though the sweet taste of the potion isn't unpleasant the feeling certainly is, like static crackling while a heavy weight sinks into his stomach as the magic takes hold. In a better state, yes, this potion would hardly last more than thirty seconds; in his current, weak, form, he can imagine this dose lasting an even five minutes. He'd failed to take that into account. Hopefully, he can keep Eternal Sugar from noticing.

"I have no intent to harm your guests, and I intend on avoiding most of them, actually." Shadow Milk responds, rubbing his temples as he tries to ignore the cloying scent of daffodils. Ugh. Even when he didn't loathe the truth and all that nonsense, this had been one of the more annoying potions to deal with. Unpleasant in its entirety, the only redeeming factor the taste. "I'm determined to be a polite visitor, this time around. I don't intend to stay long, either."

"Oh, my." Eternal Sugar says, eyes sparkling with something akin to delight. Or perhaps amusement. "Sincerity! From you! Certainly, I've never expected it." She tilts her head, smiling even brighter than before. "And here I'd been prepared to drive you out by any means, when you truly do come with no ill intent! How terribly rude of me."

Yeah, how incredibly rude! Shadow Milk thinks, but what comes out of his mouth instead is; "I do deserve that much. It's not like I made myself into something trustworthy." He immediately claps a hand over his mouth, muttering a curse as Eternal Sugar's feathers ruffle and she sits up straighter.

"Admitting your faults, too?! I'm afraid I have no clue who has decided to steal your dough, my dear, but they're certainly doing a much better job in it than whoever last held it." Eternal Sugar's wings flutter, and she hops out of her cloud again to approach Shadow Milk and clasp both his hands in her own. "This is such a lovely change! I had missed you, my dear friend, and only half because that insufferable persona you wore was so utterly repulsive I couldn't help but wish it the worst!"

"My, Sugar, you certainly have a sharp tongue today..." Shadow Milk mutters, glancing away with another grimace. He catches sight of Black Sapphire and Candy Apple through the corner of his eye, both of them clearly subduing their reactions, but it's impossible to miss how they bristled. He sends them a warning glance, a reminder to behave, before turning his attention back to Sugar. "We really don't want to stay very long, though. My children are meant to be working on studying at present, and— gah, forget that." He grimaces again, throwing his head back with a low groan.

Of course, Eternal Sugar only giggles at his frustration. "Oh, I do love that potion, I can't believe I've never thought of it before!" She says, shaking his hands excitedly. "You absolutely must stay a day at the least! Why, last I saw of you you'd have never willingly taken a truth potion, I need to know what's changed! And if this change, lovely as it is, will stick for very long at all." Eternal Sugar pouts, eyes perfectly droopy. "If you trick me now, I'm afraid there will be no grace left in my heart for you."

"I'd rather not stay so long—" He starts, only to yelp as Eternal Sugar tugs him into a twirl with her, one he's not prepared for. Of all the reactions he'd expected, he didn't think she'd ever be so… cheery.

"Either stay a day, or leave empty handed!" She says, voice ringing in an especially sing-song tone. "I've been waiting for you to realize your cruelty wasn't fun for anyone, you know. I've almost thought it was a lost cause, but I am so delighted you remembered having a heart!"

Oh, it's terribly hard not to snap at her. But, he needs to stay. With the potion cloying his tongue still, he can't risk a verbal response. It's not a compulsory thing, but whatever he intended to say may be warped once spoken. Essentially, any attempt at polite but firm demands for some respect may come off as any of the much more mean-spirited insults brewing in his mind. So, instead he just sighs and nods along, allowing her to sink into a new delusion. Beneficial to himself, technically, he supposes.

How annoying, though.

Chapter Text

Shadow Milk holds his tongue, for the most part, until that potion wears off. Even after that, he's less keen on responding to Eternal Sugar's ramblings than he is on quietly muttering to Black Sapphire and Candy Apple. They've done well, keeping quiet thus far. Thankfully, Pavlova helped loads by being a disconcerting introduction to the Garden, and neither of them wished to draw more attention than they absolutely must. A stark contrast to their usual M.O, but useful in this case.

The pair talk among themselves, while Shadow Milk keeps Sugar's attention. It's not difficult, really; she's too caught up in some imagined world where he's here to apologize for all his misdeeds and affirm himself as a changed man, or something in that line. He doesn't need to say a thing for her to ride this lie as far as it can go, which… well. It's only about as concerning as all the other false notions she's come up with to create her present-day Garden, but he had never thought that she had missed his company. He was actually reasonably sure that the day he crumbled, she'd cheer.

In some ways, it's nice to know that if he ever decided to give up on troubling her she'd receive him well. In others, it's incredibly annoying. The biggest reason he's treading cautiously and playing close to her rules is because he can't do much else, it's not entirely his choice. It's better she think it, for his own sake and in case she decides she likes his minions more as permanent features than temporary guests, but every time he remembers he just can't do what he's usually keen on doing when he visits the Garden, it grates on him.

Sugar doesn't exactly help matters, but she's… at the very least familiar.

As is most of her Garden. She's never been one for the orderly, preferring natural growth over carefully maintained rows, and her Garden has been largely self-sufficient since it's inception. Apart from carefully introducing new plant life to the area and selectively propagating new strains, she ordinarily didn't have to do much to ensure the Garden stayed it's lovely, lively self.

Paths were naturally worn by her guests, areas of cookie activity maintained by presence, and anything that needed built or crafted was done when it was needed, and not put in place by design. It's, in that way, managed to be a place formed entirely for the enjoyment of cookies, exactly how they wished it to be. Even resting abandoned, for the most part, these many centuries hasn't undone the work that had built it; aside from the plants growing larger, and more nosy, there's not much difference to be found. Even the new things, to his eyes, were well aged. There's not much to be gleaned from the tour he'd requested; its nothing but a waste of time, a walk that took too long and showed no sign of where Hollyberry may be.

Frustrating, at the least, and Eternal Sugar is likely aware enough of that much. She's always been sensitive to his moods, but never in such a position to really act upon that knowledge much. Today, though, it's almost as if she could sense just how incapable of denying her "help" he currently is.

"Let your treasures rest here," Eternal Sugar says, spinning to clasp Shadow Milk's hands as she pulls him down another path, grinning brightly all the while. The mulled juice baths were, perhaps, not the most devastating of her enticements; and, glancing back at Black Sapphire for a moment, it's one they likely could benefit from. It was more to take their time, while she attempts to convince them to stay. It also functions as a good cover for her little scent-marking trick, though he doubts that's her intent at present anyhow. Given her focus on Shadow Milk alone, a good thing, she probably isn't thinking of his minions as more than accessories to his presence and thus unnecessary to pour effort into. It isn't as if the sweet scent could draw monsters to them, given he would be taking them though portals later, regardless. She's not one to put in any more effort than was strictly required. "My sugar angels shall attend them with the most care they can afford, and with all the honor they deserve! Why, after such a long journey, do they not deserve this rest? You and I may continue on, of course."

"I would rather stay with them." Shadow Milk answers warmly, smiling to match her saccharine grin as he carefully removes his hands from hers. "They get awfully concerned with my well-being when we're apart, even if only briefly. I'd hate to cause them undue distress!"

"Oh, but you would much rather rest in my pavilion, wouldn't you?" Eternal Sugar asks, before cupping a hand around her mouth and leaning close to his ear. "After all, I'm certain you've failed to share the fragility of your dough, and I know walking here must be truly agonizing. Besides, the berries you seek are in the Heart of Paradise, and your dear treasures would not withstand the trials of such a place as they are."

"They're tougher than they look, I assure you!" Shadow Milk proclaims, stepping back until they were within arms reach again. "Clever, too. How about it, Saph, Candy? What do you want to do?" They'll stay with him, of course. That was per the script, after all, but she'll never accept that answer from him. She'll poke and pry until he relented, and as stubborn as he could be he doesn't want to risk irritating her. Not so soon, in any case. They need to be the ones to answer, is the point in short.

Black Sapphire and Candy Apple share a glance, before nodding at each other with firm conviction in their gazes. Immediately, Shadow Milk gets the sense something is off, and he sorely regrets not listening closer to anything they've been saying. "You should go with Eternal Sugar! We'll get all nice and rested here, so we're ready to leave later!" Candy Apple chirps, crossing her arms behind her back as she sways in place.

"It's more important we complete our work expeditiously, after all. We wouldn't dream of slowing you down." Black Sapphire adds, placing a hand over his heart and bowing his head. In a low mutter, barely audible even to Shadow Milk, Black Sapphire adds, "We can search for any sign of Hollyberry without Eternal Sugar's eyes on us, and pass along the message for you with her none the wiser. We have accepted the risks, and I swear; we will never let anyone keep us from your side."

Eternal Sugar beams, immediately darting forward with a flap of her wings and grabbing Shadow Milk by the shoulders. "My! Then, it seems you will be coming with me, hm~?" Eternal Sugar says with a little giggle, not waiting for his response before dragging him back again. "I think it seems more you're concerned for their sake, rather than the other way around. Oh! How Happy I am to see such a thing!" Eternal Sugar croons as she guides him away, much too physically strong for him to have any hope in fighting it.

Shadow Milk laughs along, awkwardly, as he internally curses his children for their deviation from the plan. The point had been not to get separated! What does efficiency matter, when there's every chance Sugar entices them away with her sugary promises of eternal Sloth?!

There's benefit, though, to being brought to the Heart of Paradise by himself; yes, it was quite the odd place, certainly not one most cookies traversed easily. There were reasons aplenty not to bring Candy Apple and Black Sapphire there, no matter how tough and clever they may be. The rules of such a place were odd, illogical, difficult for the ordinary to grasp. Not unlike his spire, in that way, but he'd say it was much more insidious. Besides that, it has the same trappings as the outer layers of the Garden; it has its own temptations, the promises of relaxation and leisure and all the worries in your heart being put to rest. Perhaps stronger ones, depending.

Being brought along by Eternal Sugar would have mitigated all those issues, though. As it stands, she's managed to separate him from his minions and make it seem like that was the better choice; he could almost be impressed, if such an act hadn't been paper-thin. Certainly, he doubts it being malicious; but it just as certainly wasn't as innocent as simply wishing to help. It never is, anymore.

"I should say, your timing is both impeccable, and incredibly poor." Eternal Sugar hums, at some point in the journey. After garnering a candy cloud for Shadow Milk to sit upon, and forcing him to accept the special transportation, she's been less talkative and certainly far more thoughtful. "I suppose I might tell you, seeing as you've come for no trouble, and you were so kind as to send her my way… my dearest other half rests in the Heart, and I expect she'll be waking soon."

"Oh?" Shadow Milk asks, sitting up slightly, which is something of a mistake. Their pace, while not fast, made sitting in any other way than half-lounged incredibly unsteady, and he nearly fell again from that much. "I assume, then, you intend to keep her here?"

"I don't know why I'd do anything less." Eternal Sugar responds smoothly, placing a hand over her cheek as she smiles. "My Garden has always felt so incomplete, no matter how much I would try to fill it with all the most lovely things. Though, now, with my other half here at last, I know~ nothing would have completed my Garden, save for her!"

"What an awfully difficult task you have chosen to uptake." Shadow Milk chides, clicking his tongue as he shakes his head. Eternal Sugar turns to face him, smile falling for a moment before returning falsely saccharine once more. "I speak with no judgment, of course, simply from knowledge. Our other halves… certainly aren't the kind to sit and stay, is all I mean."

"Not my Hollyberry~!" Eternal Sugar coos, clasping her hands together by her cheek. "She came back to me, after all. I don't suppose she'll ever wish to leave again."

"If you cling too tightly, it'll be inevitable she wishes to escape." Shadow Milk argues, shrugging with his palms turned up into the air, closing his eyes with a small hum. "All I may say, then, is to be careful not to stifle her. I have no doubts you may be right, that she wishes to stay with you in your paradise, you know the feelings of cookies much better than I do. But any cookie, when held too close, may seek a reprieve by any means. She may not wish to part with you, but she will leave if you do not give her the room to realize that herself."

It's nonsense. Even with his few interactions he's had with Hollyberry, he knows this Garden is the last place she would want to stay in. Let alone eternity, she likely wouldn't last a week before wishing she were anywhere else. She was a cookie of action, settling was not a vocation she was interested in. Not that Eternal Sugar could understand such a thing; after so long stuck in her ways, she's not likely to reconsider unless given a considerably large push. And Shadow Milk isn't capable of being the one to give that push, for a multitude of reasons.

"Ah, but you do admit that you do not understand these matters as well as I do. My Hollyberry will not leave again, I assure you." Eternal Sugar hums cheerfully, before turning back to land on the cloud she'd commandeered for him, sitting gracefully beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "I suppose that is what a heart in pain may presume, though. Tell me, you came for more than just berries, haven't you? You came to partake in my garden, to heal your hurts."

"Certainly not!" Shadow Milk says, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he laughs. The cloud drifts along, slower now, but given how close they were to the core pavilion in the Heart, he didn't doubt that was not something of a problem. If Hollyberry truly is there, then he's not going to be allowed in anyhow. "Sugar, you are quite mistaken! I have no hurts to heal, after all, I'm quite—"

"Quite certainly fine, as you always are, hm?" Eternal Sugar interrupts, letting out a quiet tsk as she solemnly shakes her head. "It doesn't take anyone particularly clever to see through that particular lie, you know. To expect me to believe it is a more foolish endeavor than you are typically capable of."

"Not a lie, my dear." Shadow Milk waves his hand dismissively, shaking her arm off with a casual shrug of his shoulder. "You are mistaken to think there's anything more to my visit than my stated purpose. I couldn't have lied when I'd said it."

"But you could have hidden some truths." Eternal Sugar responds, tilting her head as she glances over him. "And, I think, you must have wished to visit me for comfort. Never would you have been so gracious and pleasant, if you hadn't needed me." She sighs, closing her eyes and pressing her hand to her cheek. "A shame I have very little time for you, else I'd have gladly provided every care you need. For now, though, I can offer a warm bath in as private a space as I can muster, and a soft cloud to rest upon. And in the morning, I will ensure you get the berries you have asked for, unless you change your mind. You are welcome to stay, so long as you remain well-behaved."

The cloud drifts to a stop, then. Shadow Milk can do nothing but wait for Eternal Sugar to help him down, given she tasks some cherubim to prepare a bath for him while she ensures he can't escape. It's about as standard a procedure as it used to be, albeit he's not as willing a participant as he was then.

It's annoying. Pleasant, too, but mostly annoying. He can't believe he's going along with this.

Chapter Text

Shamefully, Shadow Milk must admit that there's nothing better to soothe his aches than a pleasantly warm bath. He's not keen on listening to Eternal Sugar's demands, but he won't fight her on this. Besides, she's not likely to leave Hollyberry alone for long, if she'll manage it ever. Without the cookie in question awake and aware, either, he can't do much. He knows what he needs to, at the least; Hollyberry is in the Heart of Paradise, likely not a long walk to see her at all, and he's… potentially going to be able to convince Eternal Sugar to let him see her. If only because she'll find fun in gloating over her "success".

So, once he's finished his bath he returns to the cloud she had given him, and he falls onto the impossibly soft and cozy surface with a sigh bordering on content. Her Garden is pleasantly warm, and it's more than easy to find a comfortable way to lay. Falling asleep is as simple as closing his eyes; and then, opening them again.

Today, it seems, Pure Vanilla has decided to sleep at a reasonable time; or early, depending. Shadow Milk hasn't really kept track of time passing. He's greeted to the lovely sight of golden sunlight pouring through a slightly ajar window, a cool breeze lightly blowing through and making the curtains dance. Shadow Milk blinks, squinting as his eyes adjust to the sudden change in lighting, and he sits up to take in the room properly.

Mostly because he's a little in disbelief. He had never imagined, or rather hardly ever imagined given recent events, waking up in Pure Vanilla's bed. Though, there's no questioning what he is seeing. Pure Vanilla's bedroom, indeed, and his placement is exactly where he'd thought; and it was just as comfortable and cozy as the room had looked. How utterly repulsive.

It's not hard to find Pure Vanilla; he's not far at all, the room isn't that large, just about completing the process of slipping into a new robe. It seems Pure Vanilla is having another boring dream about the average start of his day, as he is oft to do. The only difference is the stage Shadow Milk has caught him in, and the fact that for whatever reason, Shadow Milk has joined the dream by starting in Pure Vanilla's bed.

He refuses to think about that, actually.

"Tell me, is your bed so terribly uncomfortable in reality, or do you dream of sleeping on a rock slab?" Shadow Milk snidely comments, throwing the sheets off of himself and sliding off the bed and into the air, taking an interest in the window and glancing outside. There isn't much to see; the view from the castle is certainly something better than the blur he sees now, likely, but dreams have their limitations. The window is just set dressing; there's nothing truly beyond it.

Pure Vanilla startles, immediately bumping his wrist on the door of his wardrobe as he whirls to face Shadow Milk with cheeks flaming, very nearly tripping over himself. Shadow Milk can't help laughing, he doesn't even try to stop himself, even as he snaps his fingers to have a string tie itself around Pure Vanilla's wrist and right him just before he could fall. "A-ah, Shadow Milk! You… You surprised me."

"Clearly!" Shadow Milk snickers, crossing his arms behind his head as he leans back in the air, eyes sparkling with mirth. "I must say, I had nearly forgotten how boring your dreams may get, do you really dream about your morning routine, now? How dull!"

Pure Vanilla awkwardly chuckles, raising a hand to rub at his neck as he smiles. "I suppose," he says. Shadow Milk would continue this line, tease him for his boring mind completely lacking in creativity or interest whatsoever, but Pure Vanilla changes the subject readily. He's learned well enough by now, Shadow Milk supposes. "Though, since you are here… you didn't greet me last night, so I had been wondering what you had been so busy with. I would have thought you'd take time to rest, after our visit with Dark Cacao."

Shadow Milk shrugs, glancing out the window again. The scenery has shifted, funnily enough. Now, the skyline looks an awful lot like the view from the spire. Huh. "Thought about it, but decided not to. Didn't know how it'd go, with Sugar. I spent yesterday preparing, so I could get to the Garden sooner rather than later." Shadow Milk responds, with a flippant wave of his hand. It's funny. From here, the view looks almost… Nice.

"So you plan to set off in the morning?" Pure Vanilla asks, smiling as he feels his way along the wall to meet Shadow Milk by the window. Not to see the sights, obviously, his staff is across the room and by his door, not in any position to be used. Just to stand there, it seems.

"I'm already in the Garden, Nils. What do you take me for? I certainly do not procrastinate when there are matters worth doing expeditiously!" Shadow Milk places a hand on his chest and preens, only to feel his other hand be quickly grabbed. He looks down at Pure Vanilla, somewhat confused when he sees the open concern in his expression.

"You went so soon?! But you had said you'd need to rest for quite some time after our trip!" Pure Vanilla says, sounding surprisingly very distressed. "You made it sound as if you'd need to be ready for the worst, should you meet Eternal Sugar in her garden. And you're already there?!" Pure Vanilla's grip tightens as he seems to realize— "You're sleeping there?!"

"I received a warmer welcome than I expected." Shadow Milk sighs, rolling his eyes as he carefully pries Pure Vanilla's hand off. He doesn't release it entirely, though. In his recent experience he's learned that physical contact is a very effective means to calm someone in hysterics. He just doesn't want to be grappled so tightly. "Eternal Sugar took my attempt at a more diplomatic approach as some sign that I was turning over a new leaf and had seen the light, that I've accepted that her vision of Happiness is true and good and blah, blah, blah. She insisted I stay the night, and insisted I enjoy the Garden as some honored guest." Shadow Milk's lip curls, and he lets go of Pure Vanilla's hand so that he may cross his arms. "So, she's delusional, and I'm fine. You needn't get hung up on the details."

"You couldn't have predicted that," Pure Vanilla says, frown still prominent on his face, hand hovering in the air for a moment before he slowly pulls back. "In fact, you admit you hadn't expected it. Why didn't you take the time to rest before your visit to Eternal Sugar's Garden?"

"The sooner you get news on your dear Hollyberry the better, right?" Shadow Milk asks, shrugging halfheartedly. "I haven't seen her yet, but I know where she is now. I'll find some way to pass along your little message, but it might be a smidgen more difficult than I'd predicted. She's fine, of course, but Sugar is being awfully doting."

Pure Vanilla shakes his head, taking a step closer and, after a final moment of hesitation, placing a hand on Shadow Milk's cheek. "While I appreciate your haste, my dear, I would have preferred you took the time to heal, inasmuch as you may be able, before doing something you'd stated could be so risky." Pure Vanilla says, eyes flicking over Shadow Milk's face as if he'd be capable of seeing any damage, as he softly smiles something both fond and saddened. "I know you'll likely take it as an insult, but my intent is simply to say I can't help but worry when you fail to care for yourself. You may know your limits, but you don't need to push them so harshly."

"You're one to talk, you know?" Shadow Milk grumbles, sinking just a bit lower as he presses into Pure Vanilla's touch. "Maybe consider eating some actually decent meals someday, and then you can judge me for skipping the resting phase, okay?" Shadow Milk sneers, but there's no real feeling behind it. Nothing more than mild irritation, in any case.

"You've been rather diligent on that front, I've noticed." Pure Vanilla chuckles, stroking his thumb under Shadow Milk's eye, gentle and loving. Shadow Milk can't stand it; can't stand him, in all his utterly repulsive, entirely resplendent, devastatingly wonderful glory. "I suppose, then, that if you'll keep reminding me to care for myself, I shall do the same for you. Is that fair?"

"Too late now, though." Shadow Milk hums, to which Pure Vanilla simply nods. Shadow Milk leans closer, knocking their foreheads together and grinning in that eerie, much-too-wide manner that didn't seem to unnerve Pure Vanilla much anymore. "I suppose that's permission enough to keep insulting your frankly terrible habits, isn't it? Speaking of, I'm mildly impressed! For once, you're sleeping at a fairly decent time!"

"I…" Pure Vanilla starts, before cutting himself off with a quiet chuckle, one that manages to make Shadow Milk somehow grin even wider. "Well, I had missed you quite terribly, I'm afraid. I went to bed soon as I was able."

"Already? Why, Nilly, it's hardly been a day!" Shadow Milk teases, pulling away again and placing his hands on his hips. It's a shame to lose the contact, but Pure Vanilla's touch had been getting a tad overwhelming. Shadow Milk didn't want to do something irrecoverably foolish. "Perhaps two, actually, but that's being pedantic. Either way, not very long at all!"

"Yet, entirely too long." Pure Vanilla clasps his hands together, holding them over his heart as he tilts his head. "May I make a selfish request?"

"Do you ever ask anything else of me?" Shadow Milk responds flippantly, before waving his hand. "Go on, then! Haven't got all night." Pure Vanilla smiles, soft and fond, lightly touched with amusement. They do, quite literally, have all night, after all.

"Will you come visit me, after you've taken the time to rest?" Pure Vanilla asks. "And I do mean after you've rested properly. I can wait however long you need."

"Sure, sure. Means you'll have to wait a week or so, plus or minus if something happens in the next however long, but fine." Shadow Milk crosses his legs and folds his hands in his lap, nose haughtily upturned. "I will say, though, I don't want to play guest for your friends. Such an act is exhausting, you know, and not a trick I'd like playing too often!"

"I would find it troublesome to have to share your company myself." Pure Vanilla responds easily, walking over to his bed so he could sit. Of course, he tugs at the sheets somewhat, smoothing out the mess Shadow Milk had made of them before he sits down. It's an interesting thing to do, speaking of instinctual habit rather than need. It is merely a dream, after all. "You could use whatever means you wish to hide yourself, so long as you don't cause any undue panic, I'll expect you'll find something that will work. I'll be able to find you regardless, after all." Pure Vanilla says, placing his hands over his soul jam. In their dreams, such an action doesn't create much sensation, if any at all; but Shadow Milk can still imagine he feels the responding warmth of his own soul jam.

"Then I suppose you'll find me, sometime," Shadow Milk responds. "But if I'm going to be taking a break, you'll have to be keeping up with your meals. Three of them, every day, no exception! I'd say fix your sleep schedule, too, while you're at it."

"I will try my best." Pure Vanilla responds sheepishly, wincing. "I get so busy—"

"If I'm resting, you're eating. End of. Busy or no, I know you are capable of managing that much." Shadow Milk responds, narrowing his eyes at Pure Vanilla as he drifts closer again. "There is not a single cookie in your kingdom that would ask you to skip a meal for their problems, doll. Say you'll get to it after lunch or whatever, they'll get it."

"I suppose that is true…" Pure Vanilla responds with an awkward hum. Shadow Milk drifts in a lazy circle around him, which Pure Vanilla attempts to follow by turning his head until he realizes it would be a fools endeavor. Of course, once Shadow Milk loses his attention he has to take it back. Shadow Milk stops to hover over him, and Pure Vanilla is oddly tolerant when Shadow Milk grabs his face and forces his head to tilt up and back to meet gazes. "But what if there's an urgent issue? I can't put off handling a crisis until after I eat."

"And here I thought you were rather clever. My, silly Vanilly, seems you need to be fed aaaaall the answers today!" Shadow Milk teases, squeezing his face lightly. Again, Pure Vanilla hardly reacts. Other than the slightest annoyed pout, Pure Vanilla is, seemingly, completely unbothered by these circumstances. "You eat after the emergency is all wrapped up. You don't get to skip, just delay. And you can't delay so long you're basically combining two meals into one sitting! Three meals. You eat such small portions, I'm really not compromising on that."

"And here I thought I'd be the one lecturing you." Pure Vanilla comments, letting out a small huff. "I suppose if you have your conditions, I'll be permitted my own?"

"Hey, I'm not as adverse to resting as you are to eating!" Shadow Milk says with a scoff, releasing Pure Vanilla so he may move to face him properly, yet Pure Vanilla levels him with a stare that just screams unconvinced. The matter is an argument easily settled by the totally mature act of sticking one's tongue out, which Shadow Milk does not for one second consider a strategy beneath himself. It makes Pure Vanilla laugh, so despite the mild annoyance the insult had wrought, Shadow Milk feels like he's won this quiet argument. "Besides, what limitations could I even have? I'm not staying stuck in bed for a week, and so long as I'm not walking I'm not causing myself any trouble. The pain is not something that'll just go away, even the most thorough care will only dull it."

"I suppose I do not know exactly what may help you, versus what may be troublesome." Pure Vanilla taps his chin with a finger, closing his eyes as he hums thoughtfully. "I suppose, then, my only condition for the moment would be that you must sleep every night. No getting wrapped up in projects or games that keep you awake longer than need be."

"And, conveniently enough, it'll mean I have to dream with you the whole time, right?" Shadow Milk drawls, clicking his tongue and shaking his head reproachfully. "Silly, silly Nilly. You really mustn't be so transparent! I'll start to think you're truly desperate, seeking my company so often."

"I happen to like your company." Pure Vanilla retorts, smiling. "And you happen to like mine, if I'm not mistaken."

Shadow Milk hems and haws, rubbing his chin with his hand as he twists to hover upside-down, closing his eyes as he hums. "Hmmmmno, no, I find your presence distinctly insufferable." Shadow Milk opens his eyes again in a playful glare, grinning wide at Pure Vanilla's fond amusement. "But you're ever-so persistent, impossible to keep you away for very long! There's not much point left in trying, now."

"Ah, but as you tend to say, I can't make you do anything you'd not like to do." Pure Vanilla says, leaning forward so that he may reach to poke his finger on the tip of Shadow Milk's nose, chuckling as Shadow Milk goes cross-eyed. "So you must enjoy my presence, I'm certain of that much." Pure Vanilla smiles, eyes hooded and sparking with mischief. "I think of your many lies, that was likely your weakest, my dear Bluebird."

Shadow Milk glares at him and crosses his arms, turning right-side with a huff. "Sure, sure. Whatever you wish to tell yourself, doll."

Chapter Text

After a night of dreaming with Pure Vanilla, waking to the cloying sweet scent of the Garden is rather jarring. There's a comfort in the subtlety of the smell of vanilla, one that gets shattered immediately the moment the clashing and overwhelmingly heavy scents of the Garden register. Regardless of how nice a smell the Garden possesses, Shadow Milk has found its become a bit too much for him now.

Though it is nice, to wake in a place he's always associated with comfort and company. The times he'd spent in the Garden for longer than an hour were few, and most were occasions after the fall and while he was intentionally attempting to get a rise out of Eternal Sugar; still, the few times he actually got to enjoy the place with Caster Sugar were memories that he had been fond of. Now… he supposes as revolting as he found remembering all of that era, some memories weren't altogether too terrible. Still, he'd rather not think about it. It really isn't worth it.

He's alone, of course. He doesn't need to take but a moment to know that much. Eternal Sugar was likely off trying to smother her dearly beloved other half, and it's not like he needs attendants. For as brilliant as she is, Eternal Sugar is still one to get caught up in her view of reality being the objective and true one. Her understanding of the cookie heart and it's motivations is something to admire, but she'll convince herself of anything if you give her the slightest hint of evidence to use as a crutch. So, she's deemed him harmless.

It's simple enough to see. Just open his eyes, yawn and stretch before rising, gaining the will to sit up in the few drowsy moments before full consciousness. No ones there waiting, nor anything watching. Not even those nosy pests for flowers, shockingly enough. Sitting up, taking the extra time to rub his eyes to dislodge the fog of sleep, he still sees no more than that. Not even one of her useless little cherubim, which is perhaps not so surprising.

It gives Shadow Milk some time. Slowly pushing himself off the borrowed cloud, finding the nearest reflective surface— the bath, unsurprisingly— to scrutinize his appearance. Simple enough to put himself back together, slot on his mask once more. Braid his hair, put on his glasses, adjust his form until his reflection showed a perfect caricature. A kind young woman, a hard worker. Diligent and loving, who's utmost priority is her dearest wards.

Easier to do, he supposes, if he actually had said wards with him. He grits his teeth as the thought comes to him, accidentally releasing his hair and messing up his braid as his glare narrows in to meet his reflection's gaze.

"Stupid, pesky little…" He grumbles as he undoes his minuscule progress, combing his fingers though his hair again with a growl as he works to restart the process. Had he been having better days, he could snap his fingers and set his hair right no problem. But, alas, he's only been getting weaker and weaker. He really has to wonder why, at this point.

Cookies who are magically sensitive start with a set potential, of course, and his has always been practically limitless. While actually reaching that potential and making use of it was a matter of multiple intersecting factors, and definitely at least partially a matter of physically being capable of storing that energy in its raw form, he'd always thought the soul jam was some sort of hack trick to unlock its entirety without caveat. He still technically possesses his soul jam, albeit only a half. That should do nothing to affect this, hadn't when he'd first escaped that loathsome tree. So what was his problem?!

This has gone on too long to be a simple matter of repercussions for Pure Vanilla's ascendance; such an event, if it were the cause, would have only had remarkably temporary effects. That would have been a matter of magical interference, where the sudden release of a massive amount of energy in a short span would have essentially "shorted" his ability to control magic for a time; he's dealt with it before, back when he was a young fool surrounded by other young fools who had no clue how to manage the sheer power they were baked with. Even the worst of cases hadn't lasted longer than a month. Even the worst of cases hadn't made his capability decrease more over time. This simply had to be something else.

There's a number of lanes he could explore, options more or less likely depending, but he hadn't ever thought it was so serious to have even started narrowing them down. And by the time he should have realized, he'd been far to distracted by other matters. If he could only—

"Shadow Milk! Surprised you're still here, heh." Shadow Milk startles, nearly losing his balance where he kneels at the baths edge. His arms whirl as he tries to correct himself, and the fool who'd thought themselves fine with creeping up on him yelps as they immediately latch on to a limb and tug him away from the edge. When he lands, rather unceremoniously, on his back, he finds himself— to the surprise of exactly no one— looking up at a nervous Pavlova.

"What a pleasant greeting, you really know how to make a lady feel welcome." Shadow Milk sarcastically drawls, grunting as he pushes himself back upright. He immediately returns to his reflection, picking off the grass and leaves that have covered him, humming in a mildly frustrated tone. "Let me guess, Sugar is all too caught up in pestering dear Hollyberry, so she's sent you to see me out?" Shadow Milk pauses, peering appraisingly at himself before giving a firm nod. He glances over his shoulder with a grin, eyes narrowed sharply at his unfortunate guide. "Well, I shall say that I have no intention of leaving without my dear minions. If I hadn't made that clear enough already."

"Actually, I was just meant to keep an eye on you?" Pavlova responds, shrugging casually. "I would have been here sooner, Eternal Sugar said you wouldn't sleep and needed to be monitored, but I didn't want to stay awake all night just to make sure you didn't wreck the garden. Thought you wouldn't, and I was right, wasn't I?"

"Eternal Sugar doesn't know my proclivities, and I did say I had no intent to cause her trouble this time around." Shadow Milk rolls his eyes, pushing himself up to stand. Pavlova leaves a wide berth between them as Shadow Milk turns to him, taking a few steps back when Shadow Milk steps forward. "You want me to say you were a diligent little worker, or something?"

"That would work for me!" Pavlova responds with a laugh, placing his hands behind his head as he stretches lackadaisically, wings fluttering briefly once fully extended. "Didn't think you'd be so willing, though. Actually, what's happened to you is very surprising already, and you just keep getting stranger!"

"You've still got soft dough, you need sleep more than you need to be worked to death. Not that I believe you actually do your work any, now do you?" Shadow Milk places a hand on his hip as he grins. "You keep your ridiculous notions of whatever's going on in my heart to yourself, and I won't tell Sugar you've been getting lax. That works for you, right?"

Pavlova freezes, hunching over and laughing a bit awkwardly as he takes yet another step back, feathers ruffling. "Well… I guess it would be fair… um." Pavlova glances away, clenching his hands around his arms in a gesture near self-soothing. "But I already told Eternal Sugar everything, and Sugarfly, and I did talk to Black Sapphire for a minute—"

As Pavlova begins to speak, Shadow Milk lets out a sigh and rolls his eyes again, giving a dismissive wave Pavlova's way as he turns to start marching off. He knows where Sugar's pavilion is, he could track her down there. And probably see Hollyberry. Until Pavlova mentions Black Sapphire, of course.

"You didn't bother my dear Black Sapphire, now did you?" Shadow Milk says, head snapping back to face Pavlova with a too-wide grin. It takes a moment for his body to rotate and follow, but no time at all for Pavlova to pale.

"N-no! Never!" Pavlova responds, shrinking down as Shadow Milk crosses the distance to tower over him. Fondness for the little brat or no, Shadow Milk has priorities. He will not tolerate anyone hurting his children, even if that hurt was caused by careless words alone. "I mean, his heart wasn't boring at all, but compared to yours it wasn't the most interesting thing— I-I mean! I mean, I didn't ask him about his tragic love! Even if I wanted to— and I didn't!!— they didn't give me much of a chance…" Pavlova trails off with a grimace.

Shadow Milk lets the silence linger for a moment, tilting his head as he eerily grins down at Pavlova. Just long enough for the silence to get grating, let the silent implied threat process in Pavlova's feeble little mind for just long enough. And then, he breaks it with a laugh, light and airy, taking a step back and covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "Well, so long as you didn't trouble him any!" He says, tone bright and cheery before he glares at Pavlova again. "Do keep in mind, lovely boy, that if you ever do bother him, I will dole out a punishment vastly more severe than anything Eternal Sugar would provide."

Pavlova nods along, quickly. "Of course!" He says, grinning nervously. "I wouldn't— this is a place for Happiness! Eternal Sugar wouldn't like it if I ever caused a guest pain. Especially one so special to you!"

"Glad we reached an understanding~!" Shadow Milk croons, clasping his hands together and pressing them to his cheek, humming pleasantly. He turns, again, to leave and look for Eternal Sugar. He's eager to get this little diversion out of his way, there's nothing he wants more than to go back to his spire. The sooner he is done, the sooner he can gather his children and get out of there. His patience has been nonexistent since his descent, and he'd forgotten just how insufferable Pavlova could be. For the sake of his errand going smoothly, it really was essential he kept a cool enough head; Pavlova would be a detriment, and leaving him behind would be for the best. Although, to his chagrin, he can hear Pavlova following him. "You don't need to watch my every move, you know. I can just tell Eternal Sugar I chased you away, or something."

"That wouldn't be a good enough reason, for her." Pavlova responds quietly, subdued. Something in his tone strikes Shadow Milk as odd, but it's the least of his concerns. "You… care an awful lot about your workers, don't you?"

Shadow Milk nearly stumbles, not expecting the question. He comes to a stop and turns to look over his shoulder, brow raised as he places a hand on his hip. "Just caught on to that, have you? It's not so strange." Shadow Milk watches as Pavlova freezes, only to shake off whatever thought had passed through his head and flutter his little wings harder to reach Shadow Milk's side. "Not like you didn't know that. Romance isn't the only thing in anyone's heart, though I know you lack any interest in anything else."

"It's different that you admit it, though. And that it… feels so genuine. From you, I mean." Pavlova responds, looking up at Shadow Milk with a frustrated frown. "And normally, that stuff is hard to see. It's one thing for you to show up with a new love, but to have a heart so open when it's always been completely closed off is another thing entirely. And it's you! How did you change that much?!" Pavlova gestures wildly out with both of his arms, staring out in the vague direction Eternal Sugar may be. "Even Eternal Sugar hasn't changed that much, and she's— well, don't tell her I said it, but she's going a bit strange over Hollyberry."

"Your mistake is thinking I've changed. I haven't." Shadow Milk places a hand on Pavlova's head, bending over to look him in the eye with a mischievous smirk as he mercilessly ruffles his hair. "Check your eyes, dear, because you're seeing things! My heart's as empty as it's always been."

"Really?" Pavlova huffs, batting Shadow Milk's hand away without a second thought. Despite his earlier discomfort, it seems he's managed to relax some. Shadow Milk has to wonder why. It's not like he'd just actively threatened the kid or anything, lately. "I can't just tell the who but your minions were more than willing to tell me aaaaall about it!" Pavlova crosses his arms, puffing his chest up and buzzing along to keep up as Shadow Milk begins to walk away again. "If you think you haven't changed, you're more delusional than Eternal Sugar is!"

"Keep in mind who you're talking to." Shadow Milk hums, giving another dismissive wave. "Reality is what I say it is, kid. Eternal Sugar is delusional, but I am a liar. There's a fair bit of difference in the two."

"So you admit it?" Pavlova asks, entirely too confused and frustrated. He knows who he's talking to, doesn't he?

"I admit you're rather persistent!" Shadow Milk chuckles, with some bit of annoyance. "But regardless of what so many insist, I am not a creature capable of love. Therefore, I do not possess such idiotic, ridiculous feelings for any thief. The only cookie in this world I love is me myself and I, no one else."

Pavlova lets out a scoff, but doesn't respond for quite a while. In fact, it takes until they were very nearly at Eternal Sugar's pavilion before he lets out another sound. A quiet gasp, almost inaudible entirely.

"Oh!" He starts, causing Shadow Milk to pause for a moment. A mistake. "You're trying to convince yourself, aren't you!" Shadow Milk turns back to him, a scathing retort on his tongue, but Pavlova speaks too quickly to stop him this time. "Because you're scared of the pain losing him will cause you. You don't believe he'll stay. You don't think anyone would want someone like you around."

Shadow Milk stares at Pavlova for a moment, eyes narrowed and smile plastered on oh-so sweet and oh-so incredibly fake.

"You know nothing about what you talk about, kid." Shadow Milk turns away again, hiding his clenched fists by bunching them into his skirts. "One more word on this, and I'll tell Eternal Sugar exactly where you haven't been all night."

That's enough of a threat, thankfully, to shut up the little pest. Would have been a shame if he had needed to do anything more drastic.

Chapter Text

The choice to visit the Garden as Yogurt Swirl had been, really, a simple one. It was convenient, to rely on a connection he'd already made to deliver the simple message. After all, Hollyberry would by no means trust a stranger, and neither would she (especially) trust a Beast. She may not know who he is from more than hearsay or whatever Pure Vanilla may have said to her, but she'll know better than to believe a word he says. So, simply better to approach in disguise. Better for dealing with Eternal Sugar, as well, if only because he knows his standard appearance will cause a panic in her Garden, and he's trying to avoid that.

That said, convenience is costly. One warm bath and a nights rest on a cloud designed for pure comfort alone still aren't enough to change the fact that he's been on his feet for just a bit over a week now. He's able to grin and bear it for the most part, and what little rest he's gotten has at the very least put off the threat of collapse, but it's not pleasant. Of course, this is half the point.

When Shadow Milk enters Eternal Sugar's pavilion, he's perfectly on time to interrupt what seems a rather engaging discussion between her and her other half. Hollyberry's back is to him, so she doesn't notice his entry, but Eternal Sugar certainly doesn't miss it. By the way her eyes widen and her feathers puff up, with likely both surprise and anger in about equal parts, it's plain to see.

Pavlova doesn't cower, Shadow Milk assumes that's because Eternal Sugar wouldn't receive that well, but he does step behind Shadow Milk the slightest inch when her gaze flicks his way. "Eternal Sugar, Sh— erm, Miss Swirl wanted to see you!" Pavlova manages to say, by way of explanation. Good on him for remembering Shadow Milk's request, without needing a reminder.

Hollyberry whirls, but Shadow Milk pays her no mind, for now. He simply grabs one end of his skirt and gives a short, rather flippant, curtsy as he dips his head in greeting. "Eternal Sugar Cookie, I'm afraid it's nearly time for me to take my leave. You've shown me plenty of your wondrous Garden, but I have obligations I mustn't put off."

Eternal Sugar glances between him and Hollyberry for a moment, lips twisting as she goes through some internal debate, before she takes a few steps forward and places her hand on Hollyberry's arm. "My apologies, my dearest, but I have to handle this matter now~! Pavlova, please keep an eye on Hollyberry. Leave… Miss Swirl to me, hm~" She says with a warm smile, definitely more for Hollyberry's sake.

"Of course!" Pavlova responds quickly, immediately fluttering past Shadow Milk and settling in a spot about equidistant from him and Eternal Sugar. Out of the way, out of mind. Eternal Sugar lingers by Hollyberry for just a second more before sending herself over her head with a quick flap of her wings, stopping in a hover just before Shadow Milk with narrowed eyes.

"Wait—!" Hollyberry starts, which is enough for that smile to return with a fierceness as Eternal Sugar turns to face her again. Shadow Milk, for his part, only leans over to look past her. He gives a friendly smile and wave to Hollyberry, as casual as if they had met anywhere else. Certainly, the "coincidence" of it all could be suspicious— yet, Hollyberry knows Yogurt Swirl to be both more than she seems and remarkably secretive. For the company Hollyberry keeps by standard, this shouldn't be beyond the realm of possibility to the point that she refuses to listen. He can afford to be a little humorous about it, is the point. "Yogurt Swirl? How are you here? Why?" Hollyberry asks, fists clenched at her sides, expression lost. It's truly a shock to see her so rattled, when what he knows of her is that she's the determined sort.

Well, shaken or not, she'll get over it. Shadow Milk is reasonably sure of that.

"I received an invitation, and out of curiosity I accepted." Shadow Milk responds, stepping to the side some to better see Hollyberry. And for her to better see him, really. "I admit, it's a bit of a surprise to see you here, as well. But a lovely coincidence. Pure Vanilla hasn't been able to reach you, so he'd asked me to request you visit soon as you're able. Don't know why, it's not as if I see you often in the least, but what do I know?" Shadow Milk shrugs, managing not to flinch when Eternal Sugar's wing flares and nearly clips his shoulder. He gives her a sidelong glance, for that.

"That's enough, thank you!" Eternal Sugar croons, drifting over to place her hands on his shoulders with a tight, uncomfortable, squeeze. "What a delight, to meet with a friend here, isn't it? But we really do need to move along, this must be kept short! I wouldn't want to be separated from my precious other half for very long, at all."

"Now, hold on—!" Hollyberry starts, raising a hand, but Shadow Milk feels himself yanked back before she complete whatever movement that had been. It's not the first time Eternal Sugar had ever manhandled him like this, but certainly it's been a long time. She's not nearly as careful as she'd used to be, either.

They stop, probably, not very far at all. Just out of sight, out of hearing, and Eternal Sugar sets him down none-too gently. "I had thought you said you wouldn't be messing with my dear guests?" She says, tone harsh compared to her usual. Not by much, few would really notice, but he certainly does. It's not outright aggressive, just yet, but it is a slip he takes note of. Shadow Milk winces, the aches catching up now that they've had a moment at rest, and he slowly lowers himself to sit on the ground.

"I didn't mess with her. Part of the myriad of errands I had to run here was a simple message delivery." Shadow Milk shrugs, before focusing his attention on trying to massage most of the ache from his legs. "And that's all I did. 'Soon' is nebulous, and I didn't say she should leave. According to you, she wouldn't want to. I imagine I'd have to say a lot more to convince her to change her mind."

Eternal Sugar narrows her eyes further, scrutinizing him, but another wince after a particularly painful pang makes her expression soften. "Oh, well, I suppose that's true enough. I don't appreciate you interrupting my time with my beloved, though." Eternal Sugar lands gently, kneeling beside him and reaching a hand out. Shadow Milk is quick to lean away, which she lets out a frustrated huff at. "Still so stubborn, aren't you?" She sighs, before patting the ground. Dew lifts from the grass beneath them, swirling together until another cloud is formed underneath to carry them both.

"It feels worse after healing. I don't know how many times I need to explain that." Shadow Milk responds with his own huff, before leaning back to lay in the cozy fluff with a grunt. "And I don't need you coddling me for every step I take, and then turning around and strangling me as if you aren't perfectly aware that I was baked wrong."

"That's not the verbiage I would use. You may be in pain, now, but that doesn't mean you are a mistake for it." Eternal Sugar gently tucks away a strand of hair that had fallen into his face, wings twitching. "Your dough is different, is all."

"That's an argument, not an apology." Shadow Milk hums. Eternal Sugar lets out another sigh, placing her hand on his shoulder. But, thankfully, she doesn't try to heal him. He has to wonder if that's because she hates him, or if she's actually respecting his wishes. The latter isn't exactly characteristic of her, it'd mean trouble for him if it were the former; here's hoping she suddenly had some unprompted character development, or something. Maybe she's just too lazy to fight him on this— actually, he'd believe that.

"I will not apologize for wishing to help you, nor apologize for defending my peace. Though, I will apologize for acting in haste, and forgetting for a moment that you had been unable to lie when you told me you didn't wish to cause me trouble," Eternal Sugar responds. "I do wish you had waited for me to retrieve you, instead of seeking me out."

"If I had waited, you'd have never left Hollyberry." Eternal Sugar hums at that, before slowly nodding. "And if I had sent Pavlova ahead, you would have scolded him for leaving me be."

"I had never thought you would be so considerate." Eternal Sugar responds, placing a hand on her cheek and tilting her head. "Love suits you, I think." She smiles, and despite Shadow Milk's scoff she presses on, leaning over slightly with a dim, very dim, mischievous spark in her eye. "Your other half, am I correct? I'd be surprised if it were any other."

"I do not love Pure Vanilla." Shadow Milk growls, but Eternal Sugar only laughs at his vehemence. He jerks upright and shoves her hand off of him, glaring harshly as he sneers at her. "I'm not capable of it."

"Now, that much isn't true." Eternal Sugar responds with a tut, patting his head condescendingly. "Listen to your elder, now—"

"You are not older than me. We were all baked on the same tray!" Shadow Milk barks, only for Eternal Sugar to cover his mouth with her hand.

"Well, if you recall, given you have such a perfect memory, I did open my eyes first. That makes me the elder." Eternal Sugar places her other hand over her heart, and it takes all his restraint not to bite her. "Anyhow, I have advice for you. As your elder, and as the Bringer of Happiness!" She uncovers his mouth and flutters her wings, scattering the topmost layer of the cloud she'd made for just a moment. "You're perfectly capable of love, and you can not deny what Pavlova has seen in your heart. You know his sight isn't ever wrong."

Shadow Milk remains stubbornly silent, crossing his arms and glaring at her. He knows better than to interrupt one of her delusional tirades. Besides, the sooner she's "won", the sooner he can fulfill another goal of this visit. It's a good sign, really, that she's indulging in the kind of teasing they haven't exchanged in millennia. Not that that makes him appreciate it any.

"It's natural, to fear something so new. You've never taken the time to know anyone so intimately. And our other halves, why, they're perfectly crafted for us. That kind of connection, it's terrifying!" Her feathers puff up suddenly, a few flying off and landing in the fluff of the cloud as it starts to drift along to their destination. "But why not embrace it? You've struggled with finding a Happiness to call your own since we were baked. Why not accept when fate has given you one?"

"You act like I'm some flighty little thing, but I'm distinctly lacking in feathers." Shadow Milk says, flicking one of her scattered feathers back in her face. "I'm not scared, I'm satisfied. I know what I have and I don't need more. I don't want more."

"Don't you?" Eternal Sugar asks, and— he doesn't know why. He doesn't understand how such a small, useless little question is what manages to break him, but perhaps it's just because this is the most familiar Eternal Sugar has been in centuries; the first time he's really been able to recognize his friend within the Beast. Or perhaps it's because this is somewhat what he wanted since he'd known he was paying her a visit. It's too familiar; he can only hope she's feeling the same terrible nostalgia.

"It doesn't really matter, it's an impossibility. Even if I did, it's just another article on the list of things I can never have!" Shadow Milk responds, jerking his head away with a sneer, throwing his arms up wildly. "There's nothing to debate about that much. 'Oh, but I can convince my friends you could go free and it'll be fine!' Yeah, right! Nilly is a silly delusional fool, and you'd think he'd be a bit smarter, right? I mean, he managed to escape my spire, when I was as close to full power as I could be with only half a soul jam. He outsmarted me! Me! So the fact that he believes his silly little prattle that us Beasts' can live peaceful little lives the rest of our existence, gah! It's insulting, is what it is!" Shadow Milk whirls to face Eternal Sugar, growling lowly. "He makes me want to believe it, too, and that's plain ridiculous. There's only one fate here, and it's one of us gone forever, and the other left to suffer without them!"

Eternal Sugar flinches back, blinking wildly at his sudden vitriol. Her feathers fluff, and then settle, and she quickly wraps her arms over his shoulders. "That's certainly not the only fate, I'm sure." Eternal Sugar hums, squeezing him gently. Shadow Milk, reluctantly, relaxes into the hold; she's always been the best with hugs. Mostly because she was the only other as tactile as he was. "Impermanence is the problem, then. You see no future where you keep what you desire, so you push it away. But what if you're wrong? You're no infallible Fount, my dear."

Shadow Milk grimaces, but of course Eternal Sugar can't see that from her angle. Not that she'd think anything else of the casual barb she'd just thrown. It's truly just a comment, nothing more. "I'm not wrong. That's the nature of this. Even if he doesn't want me gone, his friends certainly will. And if not all of them, then I know one of them will certainly want my head on a pike." And there's always the chance of them changing their minds later, as well. Shadow Milk does not exactly get easier to tolerate the longer you've known him. Pure Vanilla will learn that, eventually. Inevitably.

"That's certainly a response you've earned…" Eternal Sugar starts, and Shadow Milk pushes her away with a snarl.

"You think I don't know that?! Newsflash, birdy, I'm like this for a reason!" Shadow Milk gestures wildly at himself, though obviously he wasn't referring to his appearance. "The point isn't that it's unfair or not something I deserve, the point is that in the end it'll come down to me, or him, and not both of us. And the deck has been stacked way outside of my favor since he refused to leave me alone."

"Now, you stop that." Eternal Sugar scolds, drawing him into another, firmer hug and stroking a hand down his hair despite his grumbled threats. "You get so focused on the negatives, and you never imagine a scenario where things go right. You can have forever. Eternal Happiness can be achieved, with no caveat. In the worst case, if you stay in my garden—"

"You don't want me in your garden for eternity, Sugar. The minute I get bored you'll tear my limbs off." Shadow Milk mutters, which does manage to quiet her for a minute. She knows he's right, and she's not that good of a liar. He supposes that means it's time to make his little mistaken outburst useful. "I want you to do me a favor, Sugar. I want you to imagine, that after all of this, after every effort you've taken to keep Hollyberry with you here forever… imagine you're in that stupid, infernal tree again. After knowing the joy it is to have Hollyberry in your life, after knowing how happy you can truly be. Could you last an eternity like that? If you lost her for good?"

"That would never—" Shadow Milk wraps his arms around her, tightly, claws pricking at her dress.

"Please, Sugar. Nothing lasts forever. You know that, even if you hate it. Don't pretend I have an eternity." He growls, pleads, or whatever mix between the two sounds appropriately pathetic. He needs to instill pity, he needs to make her think about it. Even if he hates this, in it's entirety. "You lose her. What will you do?"

Eternal Sugar doesn't respond, immediately, though by the way she tenses he knows she desperately wants to. He's asking her to go against her entire ideology here, to answer a hypothetical that she is determined is as impossible as a cakehound becoming a witch. Her entire world is centered on this lie she's sold herself, that anything could be permanent if you simply tried hard enough, that happiness didn't need to be fleeting. Even just humoring him threatens the very foundations of everything she stands for.

In part why he asks it.

Hey, he can't give her a push but he could get a wedge placed for Hollyberry to take advantage of, right?

Her reactions have been good, so far. He hadn't expected her to receive him so well, so he hadn't thought he'd really get a chance for this. But he's wondered, if he could just pry at her emotions a bit, play into the nostalgia of all the other times he's sought her as an emotional rock to lean on, if that'll get any reaction. Now, he's wondering if it could get the right reaction.

It's a risky bid, just as likely to get him kicked out as it is to make her really think for once since her descent, but—

"It would hurt," Eternal Sugar says quietly, fingers digging into his arms and his head where she holds him, curling over him as her wings raise as if to shield them both from view. To keep this as secret as possible, this little slip out of her falsified paradise. "I would ache, no pain would ever be equal, nothing could ever fix what that absence would break." She adds, pressing her head against his as she takes in a slow breath. As if even thinking this has hurt her, as if every bit of her dough is warring against even considering the idea. "But, the joy she brings me now… even if our time is brief, I'd go through a thousand separations if that was the price of meeting her. In any case, if I were to abandon any chance to have her, just because I knew that pain was coming? I would be a fool to do it."

Eternal Sugar releases him, or at least relaxes her hold enough to pull away to face him properly, offering a small smile. "I… know Happiness can ring Eternal, even for someone as monstrous as you. But, if you refuse to accept that much… then, you mustn't fear the loss of the future. You have your precious other half now, so you must enjoy him. The memories you make may be painful, yes, but the joy you'll feel in the present day… it's worth every bit of it. I swear to that." It's a close attempt at sincerity… but Shadow Milk can tell. She only says it all because she thinks it's what he wants to hear.

Well, at the very least that's an inch in the right direction. She's willing to lie for him, which means she can acknowledge that her offered Happiness isn't the universal solution she's convinced herself it is. If she can manage that for one Beast, she may just be capable of being nudged into thinking so for an ordinary cookie. It would take a lot of nudging, perhaps something more like shoving her off a cliff, but it's not impossible.

The cloud finally comes to a stop, and Shadow Milk pulls himself fully out of Eternal Sugar's hold with a sigh, sliding off the cloud and wincing at the shock of pain as his feet hit the ground. Eternal Sugar, of course, pulls him back down, even if she doesn't drape herself over him like before. "Berries look in season, huh?" Shadow Milk grins, letting his exhaustion show through for a moment before looking back up at the tree. "You know, this would be when you let me go pick one."

"I've been thinking, actually…" Eternal Sugar starts, slipping off the cloud herself and fluttering her wings, just enough to rise in the air and snag one of the lower berries. She holds is in both hands a moment, frowning at it and then at Shadow Milk for just the briefest second before her smile returns. "Whyever do you need such a rotten fruit? You know the pain these contain, and there's certainly no use for them I can think of."

"It's a lesson, of sorts." Shadow Milk responds, lifting his hands in a clear sign for her to throw it to him. Of course, Eternal Sugar doesn't immediately go for it. She just tilts her head, flaps her wings and rustles her feathers, a silent go-on. Shadow Milk rolls his eyes with a quiet scoff. "Fine. For me, right?" Shadow Milk hunches his shoulders as he crosses his arms, lip curling as he glances away. "Figured I'd get over everything a whole lot sooner if I remembered exactly how much pain waited down that road, keep myself from giving in to that fantasy and all." Shadow Milk holds out his hand again, rolling his wrist in a flippant manner before opening and closing his fist in a clear give it gesture. "Hand it over, bug."

Eternal Sugar stares down at him, incredulous, before tucking the berry back up into the branches. "Now, of the foolish things you've said today alone, that certainly takes the cake!" Eternal Sugar says, voice tremulous as she dives down again, landing in a kneel in front of him as she places her hands on his knees. "Why would you ever do that to yourself?!"

"I just told you." Shadow Milk shakes out of his initial stun, glaring down at her as he kicks off the ground, pushing himself and the cloud away from her. "Sometimes pain is a lesson, Sugar. You're not likely to repeat a mistake if you get hurt doing it. You only ever touch a candles flame once before you figure it burns."

"But you wouldn't be making a mistake! You'd be reaching for happiness!" Eternal Sugar argues, rising to her feet again with a firm stance, tail lashing at the ground. "You'd be hurting yourself so you'd stay a miserable lonely fool for the rest of your existence. That's not a lesson."

"Watch your tongue, Sugar." Shadow Milk growls, eyes narrowing as his fingers curl and sharpen into claws. He can't do much, but he can still scratch up her pretty dress. And probably get crumbled for trying, but, well. He can't just let an insult like that go.

"Mind your manners, Shadow Milk." Eternal Sugar returns, voice perfectly smooth. "This is my garden. Whether I give you its fruits is my choice alone. And I have decided; you will leave, empty handed." Eternal Sugar draws herself up, clasping her hands together in front of herself as she looks down at him primly. "I refuse to let you suffer by your own hand with my garden as your tool. Take your leave, please. If I must escort you out, I shall."

"No need," Shadow Milk sneers. "Let me find my kids, first. Unless that's another thing you wont allow?" Eternal Sugar's wings droop, just slightly, eyes flaring with hurt. As if thinking she'd steal his children to keep them in her garden is something she hasn't earned. No one leaves her garden. Why should his minions be any different? What has she done to make him believe anything else?!

"They've been good for you, and they make you happy. I'd never take that from you." Eternal Sugar frowns at him, just a touch sadly. "Not when you so clearly need them."

"My, how gracious." Shadow Milk says, pushing himself off the cloud to stand again. This time, even as he stumbles, Eternal Sugar doesn't stop him. He turns his back on her and begins to march away, agitation still simmering. "Because you know everything that I need! Apparently!" He barks, taking a glance over his shoulder to see her already up in the tree again, taking the damned berry. But her attention is elsewhere, clearly. Already, he's nothing but a footnote in her day. What else should he have expected.

Shadow Milk sniffs, turning up his nose at her as he crouches down to the ground, transforming into a rabbit as he goes. Once the olfactory system is up and running, he twitches his nose and takes stock of his surroundings, before picking a direction to dash. He'll be able to find Black Sapphire and Candy Apple quite swiftly in this form, and bring an end to this horrid experience. He's never been so eager to return to his spire.

The main priority is done, and his little bonus quest is complete. Two for three isn't too bad, even if Eternal Sugar's interference is annoying. He is free to leave with no issue, and take his children with no issue. He shouldn't consider that a failure.

But, regardless, it's left a foul taste in his mouth.