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“You know, everything’s kinda like a tree!”
Pure Vanilla blinked out of his meditation, turning over in confusion to Shadow Milk’s general direction as the beast repeatedly snipped the air with what sounded like clippers.
“… pardon?”
“Everything. Is like a tree! Dang Nilly, you should get your ears checked!”
As the jester snickered at him, the ancient huffed quietly, shifting slightly but not enough to jostle the sleeping Gingerbrave next to him.
“I heard you… I just don’t know what you mean…”
“Well, we all start small, like a sapling, you know? We’re weak little sticks that can be crushed and pruned at any moment. But when we grow, when we persevere and get stronger, we can be a home. A Prison.”
Brow furrowing, Pure Vanilla went to say something, before thinking better of it. He flicked his finger, indicating for the other to continue. Shadow Milk did so gladly.
“It’s sad, you know? Seeing something beautiful become a prison, something you need to escape for your own sanity. Though I suppose you don’t think of it that way, do you Nilly? Nooo, you think it was necessary, for the greater good. But that’s stupid.”
The blue cookie went silent after that, and the ancient didn’t try to say anything either. Shadow Milk was being vulnerable, and Pure Vanilla needed to simply listen.
“It’s stupid. Whatever is the greater good in the perspective of those sacrificed, Pure Vanilla? Do you think it was okay to try and get better in that place? That lonely place of roots and cages with only each other for disgusting, fake company? Nononono, I think not.”
The carriage wheels squeaked as they continued on, Pure Vanilla trying to keep his hands from shaking.
If Shadow Milk noticed, he didn’t say anything.
In fact, neither of them said much of anything after that.
The Ancient would, but…
That’s not what Shadow Milk needed.