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Mystic Flour tiredly walked towards her room, her long hair heavily treading on the floor just behind her back. The candlelights in the hallways had already been turned on at this time of evening, casting some pretty looking shadows on the warm colored walls as the white cookie walked by. It made for a nice show to take her mind off of her exhaustion, due to her long day at the kingdom's orphanage.
A lot of kids had recently been brought in because of an earthquake that struck a nearby village. Coincidence had it that by simple and cruel fate, only the younglings had survived it, leaving them without a home and without parents...just the thought broke her heart - a heart that could no longer remain indifferent to such tragedies. But she was happy that she no longer felt hollow or angry. It drove her to try again, to nurture that Volition that she had grown distant from, so that she could give these young cookies a sense of family they would have otherwise lacked.
Eternal Sugar had always fully supported her commitment to occasionally joining her there. The place was cozy and pretty, she had to admit. Often times, the Angel would tell her that it simply was the right thing to do - they, the Beasts, had never had a childhood to happily look back to, so the least they could do was give it to the less fortunate.
Not once had Mystic Flour disagreed.
But today she was exhausted, and angry that her hair was so long and unbearable to go around with. She thought about treating it again, maybe even cutting it altogether - so that she'd have a bit more breathing room for different approaches and styles. Those messy locks of hair weren't easy to wash, either. And she wasn't planning on ever having Burning Spice's disgusting, greasy and dirty hair anytime soon.
She reached forward to unlock the door of her chambers, groaning as she turned the key in the wrong direction a few times...before realizing that she hadn't even been using the correct one at all. And then she muttered a curse under her breath when she realized the door wasn't locked to begin with.
She dropped the keys on the counter by the entrance and closed the door behind her, yawning and feeling her eyes heavy. Truth be told, it would have been easier to be apathetic right there and then - but she wasn't keen on going back to a hollow husk, not after Salt and Sugar had shown her what it was like to feel again.
It was still weird to her - feelings and emotions as a whole. They were raw, strong, and she couldn't easily control them sometimes, but that was because she wasn't used to them anymore. Sometimes she loved them, because they made her feel alive. Sometimes she loathed them, because they made her feel like she wanted to die.
When she was numb to everything, it was easier. She hurt less. But she wasn't truly happy, either. And she had been told by a certain someone that happiness was absolutely necessary to fully understand and enjoy life. She liked to believe that. It made changing so quickly much more bearable.
She sat on the bed, yawning again. It wasn't really that late, but she really needed to get a shut eye. The next day, she knew, would be as challenging as the passing one, if not more.
But just as she leaned down to adjust her head on the soft and fluffy pillows a servant had kindly provided her with in the morning, her eyes shifted to a mysterious package right beside her, decorated with a golden ribbon.
Curiously, she grabbed the meticulously crafted box within her arms, noticing a small letter attached to its side. The handwriting was fancy, clean, curated even in minimal details. She began reading through the lines, the order appealing to her perfectionist, dull eyes.
"Dear Mystic Flour!
I have noticed you have been working very hard with Eternal Sugar at the orphanage as of lately. It fills me with joy to see you trying new things on your own devices! Seeing you gardening was already gratifying, but this is beyond anything I expected - and just to be clear, I mean it in the most positive way possible.
It truly is a beautiful thing to see you integrating into every day life again. I always knew you could be as, if not even more passionate than I. Behind that mask of yours, I could spot the longing for something else.
All of this is to say, I felt like getting you a little something. It isn't much, but...I hope you will like it. Besides! I always prepare gifts for everyone in the kingdom, and you are no exception, my friend!
I wish you a wonderful day,
Hollyberry Cookie."
Mystic Flour stared at the paper in utter disbelief for a few moments, skepticism taking over her mind despite proof of what she had just read being right in front of her. This...was new.
She couldn't tell how to process it.
Was it a gift? A genuine gift, for her of all cookies?
She blinked, her mind drifting back to a time when she had been the one granting wishes and gifts. She never had a birthday, and she never got to enjoy festivities with her friends because they'd often be working, even on Christmas, or Easter...
Gifts were completely foreign to her. Had she done anything to deserve it? She had just been living as a normal cookie, that couldn't be something worth losing time celebrating, even taking her past in consideration.
No, no...this was a gift for the sake of gifting. It was something meant for her, and not someone else. Something meant to bring her a fleeting moment of joy.
Yes, the truth was...she had never received a gift throughout her entire life. And her life had been harrowingly long.
Her fingers gripped tighter on the package as her hands trembled. Those very dull eyes of hers had never shed a single tear for centuries to come, but just this once, she allowed herself a moment to sob.
This...was the most beautiful thing someone had ever done for her. And it didn't matter what was inside the package - even if she didn't like it, she couldn't care less. It was the gesture she appreciated - the gesture of a fellow cookie, who didn't see her as some prophet, some magician, a tool designed for one and one purpose only...a granting wishes slave.
That very moment, she was just Mystic Flour Cookie. An average cookie, not worthy of note - but a cookie that someone felt like deserved something as nice as a gift, something that before she would have just seen as a selfish thing she didn't deserve.
But why not? Why not grant herself a single good thing for once? She had feelings too, damn it. And she was tired of pretending she didn't.
As if the package was one of the kids she took care of that morning, she held it within her arms, cradling it softly, and spilling tears of joy - because finally, she could see herself not as a monster, a Beast or a prophet.
But as someone who received a gift - a simple, meaningless gesture for most - but the whole world to her.
Carefully, as if fearing that doing it too fast or too harshly might ruin the magic of the moment, she began unwrapping the golden ribbon, her fingers graciously untying it. Then, she dug her nails into the sides, slightly tearing apart the wrapping before pulling it away uniformly.
What she found in it made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.
It wasn't anything grand - just a scarf, a white, beautiful scarf as white as Cloud Haetae's fluffy fur. The end tassels were ornamented with black compositions of various triangles, making for a stark contrast that was, however, quite pleasant to gaze upon. And it was incredibly long, too - perhaps as long as her hair.
Come to think of it, she was much less willing to cut it after this.
Without thinking too much about it, she wrapped the fluffy cloth around her neck - sighing in relief as its warmth spread through her dough nicely. This was certainly satisfying...
It was as if her dough, which had been cold for the longest time, had finally been met with something different, something contrasting - just like Hollyberry had been against her broken ideals of futility.
Frankly, standing there all teary eyed like a poor loser, she couldn't help but smile, dumbfounded and relieved. That Cookie...so loud, unexplainable, irrational, practically her exact opposite.
But a Saint, regardless. A damn Saint...
Maybe she could get used to gifts. Not too many, of course - she wouldn't indulge in greed. But occasionally...she could think about not denying it to herself. The old Mystic Flour would have berated her for this - but the old Mystic Flour was dead. And the new Mystic Flour was just...glad to be there, feeling a turmoil of uncontrollable joy within her chest.
Grinning from ear to ear, she let herself fall on her bed, closing her eyes in peace. She wasn't opposed to ending the day on this note.
"Thank you so much...Hollyberry."