Chapter Text
The silver tree was a spectacle for many on the outside, its silver branches stretching out into long shiny leaves akin to diamonds.
Faeries come almost everyday to marvel at it from a distance, their bright eyes and curious hands resisting the urge to sneak closer just to get a single touch on the smooth bark.
Yet if you'd take one look on the inside you'd realize rather quickly how dark and boring the tree truly was.
And to set things straight, it isn't a picnic to be trapped in the same dark and empty space for years.
With only the occasional sounds seeping through the bark, joyful celebrations, parties, festivals, filled with music and laugher and cheers. Yet it only felt like salt in a gaping wound, a mocking jab into said wound, the metaphorical wound of the five prisoners trapped inside of the tree.
Such as one, Shadow Milk Cookie, and if he was being truthful, which let's be honest, he isn't, but. If he was.
He'd admit outright that he felt like the biggest victim amongst his friends. While they had their boring little singular titles, Shadow Milk was so much more.
He was a playwright, a poet, a director, actor, clown, the most beloved tricksters that's ever walked earthbread!
And yet this is how his talent is spent? His beautiful body, his heavenly voice! All wasted on stupid little paper dolls that were only a sore reminder of the fact he no longer had actual cookies to puppeteer.
Worst of all, his companions didn't even spare him an ounce of attention. His only fuel, his days were spent in bored pain.
Boredly staring at the fork holding the chains to his cell, boredly listening to the occasional argument between his friends and colleagues. Boredly drawing characters and writing scripts to a show he had no one to show to.
That's all he does, just boring old stuff, inside of a BORING old tree.
Hell, even teasing big ol' Burning Spice wasn't as fun anymore. It was all the same, allllll of it.
He wanted out so bad, to feel the grass against his feet, breath in the air reeking of jam and smoke while he felt the warmth of the fires of war.
He sniffled, he missed freedom, he even missed his life before corruption, while he felt miserable during that time, it's at least be anything other than bored.
Bored, bored, bored, he was growing tired of how it felt on his tongue, sitting uncomfortably on the tip of his tongue at all times. Yet he couldn't really disagree, yeah, he was bored, soooo bored.
He sniffled again, the same old routine inside this witch-forsaken tree was driving him even madder than he already was.
He silently scoffed as he heard burning spices enraged yell for like the fifth time that hour. Following after was the blank apathetic voice of Mystic Flour. Telling Spice his yelling was futile, there was a clank and rustle of armor that followed her words.
Silent Salts agreement, Shadow Milk moved from his spot on his back. To slowly lay on his side to give him a somewhat clear view of their distanced silhouette. Eyes the brightest thing visible, Milk watches in boredom as the same thing that happened yesterday and the day before that played out again.
Burning Spice, would tell her to shut it, then get mad as she responded back calmly, he'd attempt to hit her with his axe, forgetting about the barriers keeping them all separated. This would cause a minor shake inside the tree, resulting in Sugar waking up, getting mad at Spices for having another tantrum, and they'd all be back at each other's throat again.
Yep, that was his guess, and his face doesn't change from the solemnly bored expression as he watches his exact words come true.
It was the same thing that's happened for a week straight now, it was fun the first day. He'd even joined in with his own taunting, until finally they'd all quiet down. And when next day came he wasn't as amused, but still entertained enough to throw a few words in.
And as the third day of the same thing happened he felt just ridiculous. How they all managed to repeat themselves so many times without growing as bored as him was astonishing.
But he can't blame them, they didn't have half as big a brain as him. The biggest victim inside of the tree, he sniffled again, blinking slowly as he sat up to stare dead at the dark bark growing around the rusting fork.
He felt awfully similar to it, all this time with no show to put on, no audience to act for, no nothing to do except being bored.
He felt like his dough was growing mildew from all this lying around. Yet he knew it wasn't possible since the air inside the tree was ice cold and quite dry.
Surprising for a tree that needs water to survive. But yet this wasn't just any tree, so maybe those damn witches made this personal hell to be forever....
Well he hoped not, he was sure this tree was gonna give out someday. And then he can finally crawl out into freedom, well- actually, he needed to find wherever the witches took half of his soul jam. Then, he can fun, but he sure it's be easy.
He just needed time...
BANG!
There was another shake as Burning Spice yet again tried to break the barriers, this caused a loose bit of bark to fall from the ceiling and hit the jester in his face.
He choked on a quiet gasp of surprise, before frowning distastefully. Plucking off the glittering piece of bark off his face, some of that faerie dust stays on his face as he sniffles.
Regrettably so, his small action of frustration was the beginning of an unwanted show.
His breath hitches, as he silently curses to himself, just his luck, he breathed in those stupid faeries dust.
And he felt regret at every following twist and turn the dust took, because apparently the sparkly coating of the tree bark to give it that extra protective layer had another thing with it.
It's incredibly itchy, as he finds himself rubbing desperately at the outside of his sinuses until his dough is an irritably dark blue.
Trying to coarse the dust out, yet like a pesky bug it only went deeper. And he hated to realize he accidentally sniffled in irritation again out of habit. Gasping quietly as the itch flares and burns.
Tickling the deepest parts of his nose until his breath is near a constant hitching, many eyes flickering, trying to stay ajar.
His mouth hangs open as his body completely freezes up, only the heaves of his chest rising up and down. He manages to crack an eye open to sneer distastefully at the red silhouette far away from him.
Gritting his teeth and silently cursing out Burning spice and his stupid temper. Yet, its not the only reason that makes him check, he's making sure the coast is clear.
No eyes were on him but he was still hesitant to relive this senseless itch. They would probably be able to hear him, no, he knows they will.
Sure he can scoot as far away as he can, but he's afraid they'll still hear him through their yelling. And the last thing he wanted was people attention when he was so-...Embarrassed.
His acts and shows had a format, they were supposed to entertain the audience using other cookies as the butt of the joke. But he can't just- just be the center of attention AND the joke.
No, he didn't give permission, he didn't want to-
"H-hihh-...!" His breath hitches and he immediately clasps two hands over his mouth, all eyes opened wide and snapping to his still distracted friends.
That was close, he sighed, before the itch flared again, the pressure almost unbearable as his hitching breath was muffled into his frilly cuffs.
He felt his eyes water, a thin sheer drop of mucus slipping out his nose as he held back a sniffle. He'd like to go back to being bored, thank you. He silently begged whatever plot the world was following to save him this moment, but the itch didn't seem to care for his say in the matter.
Continuing its gentle dance, he sighed shakily, knowing it was a losing battle. Of course only he could bring himself to this, he took another glance at the still arguing silhouettes.
Before tugging up his ruff until he found it was snuggly muffling his breathing.
He waited for the perfect opportunity, doing his best to keep his itchy nose at bay until then.
His eyes fluttered close as he listened carefully.
"Your anger does nothing but waste time."
"THEN WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO FEEL?"
"Can you both stop arguing, I'm trying to get my beauty sleep?!"
Theres a low growl, then a loud yell and Shadow Milk notes how the red silhouette rears up its weapon.
And just as the silhouette lunges to lands it attack Shadow Milk allows the itch to burn to the tip of his nose.
BANG!
"AH-NGSXH!"
The stifle did nothing but make the problem worse, the burning itch flaring up even worse than before, and he barely managed to stifle the next one.
"H-ha-Hh'NGSZHsth-!"
A stray tear slipped down his cheek, a hand firmly clamped around his itchy nose. He quietly sniffles, glancing over at his friends.
Good, they didn't notice, not at all.
He wiped off his nose on his sleeve, giving it a warning squeeze to quell the itch.
"Seriously your whining is getting on my nerves" a yawn followed.
Shadow milk felt the pressure return, he resisted the urge to blow his nose into his sleeves endless rope of handkerchiefs. Even if it would probably get rid of the faerie dust. But it would be loud.
Too loud for his comfort.
"My whining?! Just yesterday you were crying and screaming like a baby!"
There was a loud offended gasp.
"WELL AT LEAST I DON'T-"
"Hi-h-'gNSXTGh!"
"-TRY THE SAME BURNT ATTACK AGAINST THE SAME BURNT WALL FOR FIVE DAYS IN A ROW!"
Shadow Milk was wiping a stream of snot onto his sleeves, quietly sniffling. All the while pleased that their constant yelling was finally useful.
But all this stifling did nothing hut make a headache blossom. And it didn't help that the dust just wouldn't leave unless he stopped.
"Gh..."
His eyes widen at the sudden overwhelming pressure, hands twitching as his breath hitched, tears falling by the dozen down his flushed dough.
"WELL AT LEAST IM DOING SOMETHING!"
He felt it, the ever so light touching of the dust. The burning itchiness was gone, replaced by a steady and incalculable raise and fall.
"DO SOMETHING ELSE!"
Shadow Milk, gave his nose a pinch, and almost like that it disappeared, and he couldn't help the relieved sigh from leaving his lips. Like a weight had been lifted off his nose he gave a curt sniffle to try and ease away the congestion.
"SHUT U-"
" Ah-'ATCHiEw!"
. . .
And like a riveting high note of a talented singer all eyes were on him. Even his own, wide with unfiltered shock.
A beat of a minute passes, and he assumes his friends would go back to their arguing like nothing happened. But instead he's annoyed and slightly horrified as they all individually talk.
Mystic flour goes first with a single and blank,
"Bless you."
Following after was a tired hum and a,
"Gesundheit, hun!"
Then there was a snort of contained malicious laughter, and a single word not fully truthfully spoken from the heart.
"Weak..."
Last of it all was a click of the tongue and rustling of armor, and with the sound so close Shadow Milk almost instantly realized with horror that Silent Salt must've had front view tickets the whole time.
God, how could he forget about the ever lurking and observant warrior of the dark?!
Yet, despite the immense shame he feels, he's forced to give an acknowledging hum.
Hoping that it'd be enough for his now corrupted friends to go back to their own accords. Yet it's only fuel to the fire, their attention now fully on this new piece of entertainment for them to latch onto.
"You okay? That sounded really bad."
How very thoughtful of you, he silently scoffed.
"I am fine." He almost cringed from his own voice, congested so hard he felt he sounded like a completely different cookie.
"You do not sound fine." He rolled two of his many eyes, before sneering over at them.
"Im fi-ne." He covers his mouth, feeling even more embarrassment land on tip of him like another tree. Because him, the famous performer, just had his first ever voice crack. And witches was it humiliating when it was oneself in the spotlight of mockery.
"Ha! You sound like a dying bird!" A very enthused Burning Spice laughed.
"CAN IT WILL-...Wih-hh."
His now hitching breath was like a lighter fluid to a candle, immediately sparking joy in the Destroyer who had been oh-so-bored.
"Oh-? HA HA! I didn't quite catch that, care to repeat?"
"Y-you little- hh- ah-"
"Stop being so mean to him Spice! He's obviously not feeling well!" A very annoyed yell came from across him.
But despite Burning Spice's usually short temper, he just waved her off in favor of watching the jester trying to fork out compelling arguments while his senses betray him.
"H-HA- A'GNSHh-he-!"
"Ha! Good one!" The now relaxed beast mocked with applause, Shadow Milk personally could've never guessed he'd ever sneer at someone who was applauding so loudly.
"S-shu- H'GnXSHo!"
"Finally an actually entertaining performance, haha!"
"B-BURN UP IN THE OVEN-ACh'NGSzT!"
"Oh hun you shouldn't stifle its bad for your-"
"HA'GnSHs!"
"Hea-"
"A'PSNGH!"
"-lth."
More applause.
He was out of breath, desperately wiping his nose with his sleeve. But it only felt worse, irritating his face, did smooth sugar fabric always feel this rough?
"And I thought you'd gotten boring." There was another boisterous laugh, and through his wet eyelashes he made sure to send Burning spice, now up against the barriers separating everyone, the nastiest look he could muster.
"SNDRK! Shud it." Shadow milk growled, breath still hitching as he desperately held back. There was a rustle of armor, like Silent Salt was shaking their head disapprovingly at the whole situation. Mystic Flour spoke in their place.
"Your continued stubbornness to not just sneeze normally is what is causing this scene, open your heart to apathy. And simply stop."
He scoffed. "Oh what do you know." He accused, sniffling pathetically from his spot on the floor.
"Come on hun, we're only trying to give you the advice that you obviously need." While it wasn't supposed to, her words came off more insulting than comforting.
He crossed his arms, which looking back was a very big mistake. Because as he opened his mouth to speak, his guard was so caught off that he couldn't pinch and stop in time for the ever loud but squeaky.
"Ah-hh'HA-SCHIEWw!"
He gasps in embarrassment, covering his mouth in humiliation. Silence, crickets, the crowds is staring blankly, he slightly curls in on himself. As if it would somehow take the spotlight off him. His face was burning a million degrees, yet he had to admit, the itch was gone.
And his sinuses felt a lot more clear, seems that last one cleared the last bit of that damned faerie dust from his system. He felt great physically, but mentally he was absolutely more ruined than normal, as yet another beat of silence follows.
But this time it isn't as long as the other. With the broken silence comes a cheerful voice calling out a simple,
"Gesundheit!"