Chapter Text
Looking back on the events that had occurred since the initial burning of his spire, the Sage of Truth liked to think that he made it out well enough. After all, he had gotten his old body back again, which was a relief that words almost couldn’t describe fully. His spire was now rebuilt, whole and unburnt just like it had been before. Just seeing it again as a form that wasn’t rubble was enough to bring the Sage to near tears. All thanks to the time jumper, and the rewinding of the timeline.
All of those things were good, of course, but there was one that stood out the most, shining brighter than any of its siblings, a sun in the sea of darkness, its rays basking all that was beneath in its ever radiating glory.
The Sage had gotten himself a second chance with his Truthless Recluse, and Witches be damned, he was not going to fumble it.
Every single day he woke, the first thing he did was walk over to the religious sect in the village square and pray. Many of the cookies of Blueberry Village thought this to be odd, and rightfully so. The Sage, although he preached the Truth of the Witches, was never one for religion. Yet here he was, kneeling at the altar everyday.
The Sage made sure to count his blessings. He’d hate for them to disappear one day, and would not allow a problem so easily fixed such as lacking displays of gratitude take them away.
Whether or not it was the Witches’ divine hands that guided fate into giving the Sage the time jumper that had helped him reset the timeline or some sort of really, really lucky coincidence, the Sage was eternally thankful nonetheless.
The rest of his morning routine typically went like this. He’d return to his Spire of Knowledge and give his lectures, just as he had before. However, there was a stark difference between the before and the after. While the Sage in the previous timeline had spouted practically everything that came to mind, now, Sage found himself to be much more careful with his words. He knew how precious time was, now that he had once lost it, its sand trickling past his fingers as he lay powerlessly watching it indefinitely depart, never to be returned to his grasp. His lectures now rarely ran overtime. He made sure not to waste his breath on unnecessary words and instead honed his focus on speaking the Truths that were most important to be heard aloud at this time, to these specific cookies. He’d guide them on the paths they’d need. Everything else, well, if it wasn’t strictly necessary for them to hear for their fulfillment to be complete, then the Sage didn’t feel the explicit need to say those things aloud.
He recalled once telling his Recluse, in the before, that all words held importance.
The Sage still agreed with his past self’s words, the wisdom in them that still rang true in the after. He just acknowledged now that the fact of being important didn’t necessarily make the words good nor beneficial, at least for his own personal case. If anything, they just ended up becoming more harmful than helpful.
He’d had to learn that the hard way.
Even an old dog could learn new tricks, though, and the Sage was definitely not one to make the same kind of mistake twice more.
After wrapping up his afternoon lectures, the Sage would make the way up the Peak of Truth. The trek was far from easy, for the peak was as tall as it was narrow, but with his trusty staff of gold, craft mind, and affinity for Dark Moon magic, the Sage fared far better than most cookies would.
Today, the Sage was humming a cheerful jingle to himself as he practically skipped all the way up the winding path to the Recluse’s Spire. He hadn’t been able to visit yesterday, having passed out while grading papers during class. None of his students had bothered to wake him, to his annoyance. One of them, Black Sapphire Cookie, had left a note at the desk the Sage had fallen asleep on, apologizing and firmly reminding him that he should rest more often and stop overworking himself.
The Sage had crumbled the note and tossed it into the trash bin.
Despite his slight frustration, overall, the Sage did not regret his decision to send his trusty rabbit minions spun from Dark Moon magic to fetch the siblings, Black Sapphire Cookie and Candy Apple Cookie from the slums they had lived in up until now. Not only were the pair remarkably advanced in matters concerning magic, but the Sage had grown incredibly fond of them, in both this timeline and the one from before.
A dark voice conjured from his mind whispered into the Sage’s ear, breathing cold air down his skin, making the hairs on his neck stand up. “They’ll just die, for they are mere mortals who will inevitably abandon you like everyone else in your miserable existence does.”
The voice was all around him now, nearly suffocating him in its sheer volume. The Sage froze in his tracks, still and unmoving. He could almost swear, he felt a phantom hand press against his vocal chords, silencing him as fingers pressed against his neck. It was suddenly very hard to breathe, his lungs aching for air yet refusing to be filled with it.
“W- who are you?” the Sage finally managed to get out, yet even that broken sentence felt like an effort.
A pause. The Sage waited, foolishly daring to believe the voice had felt pity and abandoned him.
He should’ve known better. Beasts don’t abandon their prey when they see weakness. If anything, their hunger only grows and swells in size before they pounce and rip the other to shreds,
“Consdier me the one who understands.” The voice was almost hissing, yet the words seemed almost cloyingly gentle in their tone. “I could be… the sweetest torture one could bear.” A dry manic laugh filled the air, and then the moment passed; as quick as it had come, it was now gone, leaving the Sage alone in the forest once more.
The Sage rubbed at the spot of his neck where the spirit had been breathing down. Moments as such kept on happening, with increasingly concerning frequency. Nothing but mere breakdowns, the Sage was sure they weren’t important. Just his mind playing tricks on him, hehe. The Sage allowed his eyes to flutter shut, allowed himself a moment to take a breath or two while he steadied himself. Then he continued on, singing cheerfully as if nothing had happened.
The Sage was becoming quite the good actor.
Cookies like the Sage did not get trauma, of course. He was a Virtue, for Witch’s sake! He was, quite literally, baked different. Better, stronger. His mind was most definitely better equipped than the average cookie, and would not get any sort of mental health problems from his experiences. That would be embarrassing.
Before he knew it, the Sage was standing face to face with the Recluse’s front door. The Sage blinked at it, having been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t realized he’d already arrived at the Spire.
“Silly me!” he chuckled to himself, and threw open the door, not even bothering to knock. He liked to think he and the Recluse were long past practicing unnecessary niceties as such.
The Sage’s eyes scanned the room almost hungrily, before zoning and locking in with the Recluse’s own mismatched pair, heterochromic orbs of pale blue and yellow staring straight at him, straight into his soul.
It was almost as if the Recluse had taken a knife, carved out the Sage’s guts, and found what was inside, that was the intensity of which he was staring at the Sage with. Then the moment was over, the Recluse’s expression defaulting back to its usual air of nonchalance as he angled his face away from the Sage, barely acknowledging his presence.
Soul Jam tittering with warmth, the Sage couldn’t help but wonder if the Recluse liked what he found between the other’s ribs, when all the guts were spooned out, baring the Truth to be laid bare for all to see.
No time to dwell on that right now. The Sage floated over to where the Recluse sat, cooing, “Heyyyy, Clusey!”
The Recluse turned his head ever so slightly. He wrinkled his nose at the Sage, as if the mere sound of his voice disgusted him. The Sage knew better than to believe his little act, but who was he to deny his Recluse his stage? “You’re late,” the Recluse said, his tone border line accusatory.
The Sage let his eyes stray over to the clock that hung from the wall. He noted it hadn’t been there before. The other must’ve installed it sometime between his last visit and today. A slow smile overtook his lips. “Aww, Clusey, did you miss me?”
“No,” the Recluse said, much too quickly. He buried his face into his golden collar, avoiding eye contact as he murmured, “You didn’t come yesterday, and I got my hopes up. Then I thought you weren’t going to show up today, and I almost got excited.”
The Sage feigned a gasp, clutching at imaginary pearls. “My! The Truthless Recluse, expressing an emotion other than the ever present frustration? Never did I think I’d live to see the day!”
Rolling his eyes, the Recluse ignored the Sage, instead fiddling with a loose thread in his robes.
The Sage clicked his tongue and, striking as quick and sudden as a viper, he grabbed at the Recluse’s robes.
The Recluse let out a startled gasp, a sound the Sage found delightful as their noses nearly touched from their unexpected closeness, his face all flushed as the Sage shamelessly began to examine the fabric of his attire. The Recluse struggled to maintain his composure. “Sage! Unhand me this instant.”
“Tsk, tsk.” The Sage shook his head in disappointment. “My darling Recluse, it seems you have been neglecting yourself again.”
“I am far from being your darling, I assure you,” snarled the Recluse, wriggling out of the Sage’s grip. The Sage let the fabric slip past his fingers, though he did sigh as he watched the Recluse distance himself from the other. “And why do you care, anyway? You didn’t even bother showing up yesterday.”
Recognizing the veiled hurt in the other’s words, the Sage’s eyes softened with what the Recluse mistook for pity, his scowl only deepening as he recoiled.
“Recluse,” the Sage said, taking the other’s hand in his own. To his surprise, the Recluse let him hold it, though he did flinch ever the slightest bit as their dough made contact. Cool skin soothed by warm skin, and vice versa, the Sage said, “I passed out yesterday, and couldn’t come.” A simple explanation, yet his words rang true.
The Recluse stared at the Sage. “And yet, I’m the one who is neglecting himself.” He chuckled humourlessly, glancing down at his feet instead of the Sage in front of him. He said to his shoes, “You need to sleep more.”
Something churned in the Sage’s stomach, and he felt a bile fight to rise up his throat. Swallowing hard, the Sage changed the subject in a way he hoped was subtle. “I can easily fix up your robes for you,” he offered. “I can take them home with me, and they should be done by my next visit.”
The Recluse shifted slightly and it was visible to the Sage that he was uncomfortable. The Recluse probably thought he was so cryptic, but the Sage could read him like an open book. “These are the only garments I own,” the Recluse admitted begrudgingly, casually slipping his hands out of the Sage’s and letting them hang awkwardly at his side. The Sage was much too shocked by his words to properly react to the action.
The Sage let out an affronted gasp. “Recluse! Have you really no other clothes?”
The Recluse at least had the sense to seem ashamed. He buried his face deeper into his collar. “Whatever,” he grumbled. “It’s not like anyone sees me, anyway.”
“You have to do these sorts of things for yourself!” the Sage argued.
The Recluse gave him a sideways look, clearly unconvinced.
“I cannot let this matter slide so easily,” the Sage decided. He jabbed a finger at the Recluse’s chest. “You’re coming home with me!”
“W-what?” the Recluse stammered, his eyes as wide as saucers. “Why?” he protested. “There’s no need-”
“You’re obviously in dire need of a long overdue wardrobe update, and lucky enough for you, making clothes is one of my hobbies!” The Sage now had the Recluse’s elbow in his grasp and he was relentless in his hold, determined not to let go. He focused his energy and soon enough, a direct portal to his spire formed in the center of the room, a swirling mass of Dark Moon magic waiting to swallow them whole and spit them back out to the Sage’s spire.
The Recluse began to dig his heels into the rug in hopes of slowing the other down, a semi determined look set on his face, a muscle feathering in his jaw. To the Sage’s frustration, the Recluse was much stronger and bigger than he was. But in what he lacked in physical strength and capability, the Sage made up for in stubbornness and magic skill.
Using a simple levitation spell, the Sage, quite literally, swept the Recluse off his feet and threw him into the portal.
Giggling to himself as he heard the Recluse’s muffled curses as he hit the floor on the other side, the Sage grabbed the staff and made the cross over himself, the cool sensation of the magic washing over the skin instantly soothing whatever lingering nerves he had from earlier.
The Recluse was just getting onto his feet, dusting himself off with his hands when the Sage stumbled through the portal, accidentally falling into his arms, his knees gone all weak all of a sudden.
“Sage,” the Recluse growled, clearly annoyed. The Sage could hear his heart beating through his layers of clothes. He wondered if the other could hear it too, feel the tension in the air from their close proximity. “I swear to the Witches, if this is another prank…”
The Sage wanted to respond, to say something, to make some joke or witty comment, but a wave of nausea hit him. Swaying on his feet, the Sage felt his whole body go limp against his own will, the Recluse the only thing supporting him and preventing his fall to the ground. A whimper escaped his lips as his blurry vision swam.
“Sage,” the Recluse repeated, a hint of frantic worry creeping into his tone. The Sage blinked up at him, the light hanging overhead on the ceiling hitting the Recluse’s silhouette in just the right way, making him seem so perfect and ethereal as he was practically glowing, at least, from the Sage’s point of view.
The Sage curled his fingers into the Recluse’s clothes. He refused to lose consciousness right now, it would be oh so embarrassing, and he was fine, anyway. He’d make the Recluse fret over him for no reason. He had his old body back, he was fine! Nothing was wrong with him; he was the Sage of Truth himself, after all! He was supposed to be better, smarter, stronger…
All of these “positive” affirmations did not seem to work. The Sage felt the corners of his mouth begin to wet, his stomach churning with an acidic sensation. Eyes widening, he knew what was inevitably going to happen right now, yet he still fought to keep the sensation down, pressing a hand to his mouth, gagging.
The Recluse seemed to recognize what was happening and immediately took action. The Sage hazily recalled the other casually mentioning that he had once been a simple healer in his old village, yet when the Sage had prodded him for more, the Recluse refused to elaborate. His old healer instincts seem to have kicked back in, for he helped maneuver the Sage into a sitting position on his knees and even held back his hair so that it wouldn’t fall into his face as he retched, pressing a steady hand to the small of his back, anchoring the Sage to the ground.
If the Sage weren’t actively puking his guts out right now, he might’ve blushed at how the Recluse was acting like such a gentleman in this situation.
There were few things as humbling as throwing up. The Sage shuddered, his whole body shaking as he felt something fall out of his mouth. Not real vomit. Petals, soft as silk, slipped out past his lips and into a heap on the floor. Tears streamed out his eyes against his will as he felt his muscles go slack. He fell face first into his own pile of flowers, groaning softly.
He heard the Recluse curse underneath his breath, then felt strong arms wrap around his chest. The Sage let out a little squeak as he realized the Recluse was now holding him, close to his chest.
A memory flashed through his mind, pushing at his skull. But the Sage’s mind felt much too sluggish and his body much too tired to properly reflect right now, so when the Recluse started moving down the hall, he allowed himself to relax as he pressed his face against the base of the Recluse’s neck. The rhythmic sound of the other’s breathing paired with the rise and fall of his feet was enough to make the Sage sleepy, his eyelids drooping downwards.
The Recluse said something that sounded muffled to the Sage. The Sage rubbed at his eyes with stiff fingers, murmuring a “Huh?”
The Recluse simply shook his head, an odd look on his face. “Whatever, forget it.” His tone was surprisingly gentle. “Go back to sleep,” he directed, firmly.
“If you insist,” sniffled the Sage, feigning offense, but truly, he was really grateful. For so many things. He probably couldn’t even count them on his fingers.
But he could definitely count one, the one that came most prominently to mind.
Letting his eyes slip shut once more, the Sage of Truth finally drifted off to sleep, cradled in the arms of his other half.