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Past
He was always meant to be imprisoned.
From the moment of his creation, having the universe’s secrets at his fingertips was always going to make him a threat to his creators, despite that very trait being their intent for him in the first place. Too much Knowledge meant too much potential, so the solution the Witches came up with was thus:
He, the Fount of Knowledge, would forever be collared.
A lock sits upon his being, right between his neck and chest. This lock embodies the one and only thing he does not Know for sure. He doesn’t Know its meaning as it seems like a simple magic lock, and he didn’t Know if there’s a trick to get it off or if it really would unlock the way he thinks it would. All he Knows for sure is its purpose - to inhibit him in some fashion. To chain him, subdue him. He Knows this like he Knows all else.
And he also Knows, viscerally, the fear and pain that floods through him at the mere thought of unlocking it.
Whenever he looks at it, he Knows it’s just a lock, just an additional design baked into his very dough, but to be baked with such an aversion of it heightens his curiosity and wariness, especially considering the reasons behind its existence.
He hates it, he hates it with his entire being.
But, well, it’s not as though he could do anything about it, so he ignores it as best he can. He even lets it sit out in the open through his robes, an ever present reminder for every question he answers and for every bit of guidance he gives.
He was baked with it, so it’s normal for him.
It’s normal. It’s normal…
Present
It’s a standardly beautiful day in the standardly beautiful Vanilla Kingdom.
By which he means - it’s boring.
It always is, really, but nothing would ever come close to the boredom of the damned tree, so he’ll take what he can get. Besides, he’s finally gotten to the point where only half the population glares in suspicion the few times he floats through the streets!
Wary looks are to be expected of course, and sometimes he gleefully takes advantage of that lingering fear to sow some chaos here and there, but he’d like to think he’s become quite an upstanding member of society!
…of a sort.
Regardless, it’s been quite a while since he’d been more or less accepted into the Vanilla Kingdom, long enough that some things he’s long grown to suppress…are beginning to bother him once more.
Beneath his collar sits the one thing he could never get rid of. Even after getting an entirely new body, this damn lock seemed tied to his very soul. His nails lengthen and sharpen to a point, scratching at the gilded surface. It leaves no mark, as always. He never could quite bring himself to unlock it. He Knows how, obviously, but…shamefully, the fear it’s always given him stays his hand.
But he wants it off. He wants to shed the last bit of his past, wants to finally rid himself of this thing the Witches baked into him.
Yet even after thousands of years, every time he tries that pure fear and imagined pain do their job in stopping him.
He could ask for help…but the idea of being so…vulnerable and open to another, when no other being in existence knew the truth of the lock and what it did to him…it’s not a weakness he’d like to reveal to anyone. The former Master of Deceit’s got some pride left, after all!
…There is one cookie, though. One cookie who…who understands him. The only one who does. That cookie…may be a good call to ask. Yes, so long as he himself couldn’t overcome the lock, there really is only one other option.
He melts into the shadows of a nearby stall, a fresh goal in mind.
He needs to find Pure Vanilla Cookie.
Past
There was a time, only a thousand years or so into his existence, where he’d sequestered himself to the Yogurt River of Rebirth. He himself could not go beneath the depths, but it was a peaceful place to him, and he figured, if cookies had such a difficult time coming near him, he may as well give them a better reason to keep their distance. He’d float amongst the rushing white and walk along it, waiting for cookies to come find him as usual, all seeking the Knowledge he offers.
And come they did, with the only ones who could get close to him being cookies capable of floating or flight, but not even they dared to. No one wanted to risk perishing within the depths of the Yogurt River. And no one wanted to get too close to one of the Virtues for fear of being insulting. Either way, it simply wasn’t worth it, not when all they came for was answers to their questions.
Their many, many questions.
“How do we make our crops grow?”
“What is the best way to tell time?”
“Why does the sky change colors?”
“Where can we find the ocean?”
“How do I solve this mathematic formula?”
“What calculations am I missing here?”
“Where are the other Virtues?”
“How-“
“What-“
“Where-“
“Fount of Knowledge, why are we here?”
Every once in a while, there was a particular type of question - one he Knew no one would enjoy the answers to.
“Why, my boy…” The gentle, detached look that sat upon his face for every question never wavered. “ Entertainment .”
The crowd, filled with curious travelers and dedicated researchers alike, went silent.
The Fount continues, “Ah, but that is only the general reason. There are a few more specific ones.”
The slightest glimmer of hope rises up in the child’s gaze. “Other reasons? What are they?”
The Virtue of Knowledge lifts a finger. “Curiosity.” Another finger. “Competitiveness with the Wizards.” Another. “Social gatherings. And, in some cases…” His eyes gleamed, the Knowledge forcing itself out and into the world. “ Consumption .”
As he’d predicted, no one had liked his answers.
Present
The two of them will forever be connected, so it’s easy enough for Shadow Milk to find Pure Vanilla. The other is tending to his flock, which has steadily grown to an almost unbearable size by the looks of things. The healer is joined by that trio of small cookies from before, the little ones who were way too keen to jump into any problem they could.
They definitely still don’t like him much (which, understandable , not everyone is keen to remember a rousing time of being pushed off of a tower he supposes), and he doesn’t have the patience to go through a round of “yes, redeemed, promise ” again, not when he’s already on a mission. Plus, he’s pretty sure the little wizard would take any opportunity he could to “accidentally” zap him with lighting magic. Or the little strawberry one would just whack him.
He also doesn’t want anyone else to know what he’s there for. It’s bad enough he’s going to his other half at all.
Needless to say, he bides his time and waits for them to leave.
By the time they finally do, Pure Vanilla barely has time to turn back to his flock before Shadow Milk is jumping out at him.
“Oh, Nilly~!” He exclaims with his usual flair, rising up from the shadows with aplomb. “I was looking for you!”
“Oh! Shadow Milk Cookie, it’s good to see you.” The healer smiles, not surprised in the slightest as he turns his staff to better face the other, “You should have joined us earlier, my friends and I were discussing-“
“Yes, yes, I’m sure it was all very interesting, however!” Shadow Milk grins widely, putting his hands together in an excited looking clap, “I have an oh so serious request for you!”
“A request?” Pure Vanilla repeats, tilting his head slightly, more attentive than before, “Of course, I’d be happy to help you. What is it you need?”
Shadow Milk opens his mouth…but nothing comes out.
Having the idea to get the other’s assistance was a lot easier to swallow than actually going through with it. Now that he’s here, it’s…a bit more difficult a task than he realized. His body tenses, the movement making him hyper aware of the lock.
It may not be him going through with the unlocking, but it still feels him with this sudden, unrelenting fear .
“Shadow Milk?” Pure Vanilla asks in worry when the other was quiet for a bit too long.
Shadow Milk averts his gaze, expression blank. “We are…friends.”
He spits the word out like it burns - and it does, in a way he’d never admit to indulging in.
Pure Vanilla is clearly shocked, but he beams at the statement regardless, “Yes! Yes, I’d like to believe we are. I’m quite happy to hear you say that-“
“And!” Shadow Milk interrupts, a hand coming up to rest on his Soul Jam, where just underneath… “And you told me, before, that if I needed to talk with you, about anything …I could.”
“Of course, Shadow Milk. May I ask what’s troubling you?”
Shadow Milk shifts each of his eyes every way they can go, paranoia mixing unpleasantly with his baked in anxieties. “…It is not a matter meant for prying eyes and ears.”
The field is empty of all but the healer’s flock, but it is still far, far too open for Shadow Milk’s taste.
Pure Vanilla nods, turning with a small wave of his staff, “I understand. Follow me, we can talk in my study, it’s usually quite secluded.”
He begins walking off, and Shadow Milk is left to float along after him and merely hope that this wasn’t a mistake.
Past
Shapeshifting was always something he was proficient at. However, he didn’t start partaking in various long term forms until several centuries into his existence. For the longest time he was content with keeping the doll-like, androgynous look the Witches initially crafted him as.
Soft and gentle looking, regal but still approachable, he’d known it was the best form to have for cookies to see him as the Fount of Knowledge he was. It was the best form for him to take on in order to most readily serve his Purpose.
Over time, however, he’d started changing himself more often, and for longer. So often that the Herald of Change gladly approved with an uproarious laugh and a triple handed slap to the back.
At the moment, he’s living this century as one of his more feminine forms, currently walking about with a very specific type of apples in his basket, ready to nonchalantly offer one to any passerby.
There were a few details Shadow Milk kept between each of his various forms throughout the years. There were the obvious ones of course: white hair, typically blue clothes, his beautiful heterochromia…all of these physical traits he likes to carry with him through his many forms.
But there is one other crucial detail that stayed with him throughout all his transformations: the lock stayed in place. It could grow or shrink, it could even be forced to be painfully flush against his dough, but it would never, ever leave him. He’d taken to hiding it whenever he was not in his original form, behind whatever attire he so chose to wear.
He always felt it regardless, though.
Even now, as his long white hair bounces behind him and he toys with his hood, the front of it covers a lock that burns, burns, burns -
“Oh, how lovely~” He hears the sigh come from behind him, “This form of yours is my favorite, I believe.”
He turns, a coy grin lighting his face as he takes in his company. “Why, thank you! I quite like it myself, I may don it again somewhere down the line.”
Pink eyes glimmered, “Already planning ahead, I see~”
The Fount of Knowledge and the Bringer of Happiness were at odds with each other often. After all, “Ignorance is Bliss” - his very Purpose often conflicts with hers, especially recently.
And yet, despite that, he’s always thought it nice to talk to her.
She seems…taller. Where they used to be nearly eye to eye, now his vision must turn upward just to see her peaceful smile. If he didn’t Know what she had planned, he’d have reminded himself to lengthen his legs for the next visit.
“It’s not often you seek me out.” He comments, more to prompt her into stating her reasons for being here aloud than truly questioning them.
“Oh, you’ve always been a miserable little thing.” She hums, looking upon him sleepily. “I came to ask if you’d like to come to my garden and relax…feel the joys of happiness for once in your existence~”
“Oh? A garden? That’s not like you, keeping to one spot like that.”
“Hmm hmm, I’ve decided it’s what’s best for us all. Eternal happiness that no misfortune can touch~”
He stares at her. “You’re making yourself a prison.”
“Oh, no, no, no.” The Bringer of Happiness sighed dreamily. “It’s no prison, it’s a paradise .”
“Yes, well.” He toys with the lock that sits just above his chest. “I’m more than a little certain that the cookies in your “paradise” are going to have a lot of questions. My presence there would likely only upset them should they ask me any.”
“I assumed so. Ah, well, it didn’t hurt to try. Though, in that case, then…” That serene, sleepy smile grows just a tad sharper. “ Stay out of my garden . If happiness isn’t welcome in your life, it’d do you better not to ruin others’, hm~?”
“Oh!” He grins, “But, isn’t that what I’m best at?”
She giggles. “Oh, yes! You certainly are. Ah, a pity. You’ve always been one of my hardest jobs, you know. And always making my job harder. Maybe one day your heart will open to happiness~” She turns away then, only briefly looking over her shoulder once more before she left. “…I do hate to see you so unhappy.”
She left, flying off before he could get one last word in edgewise.
Merely a few years later, he became aware of an Eternal Sugar who trapped herself up in her “paradise”, and the Fount of Knowledge was that much more alone for it.
Present
“Pleasure doing business with you, my good sir.” Shadow Milk trills as he floats into Pure Vanilla’s study as the other opens the door.
“I’m happy to help out, but Shadow Milk, what exactly is it that you need?” Pure Vanilla asks as he closes the door behind the jester. “You weren’t very clear earlier. Is something wrong?”
He considers the idea of taking this entire discussion to the other realm instead for extra privacy, but considering the free reign he tends to give Candy Apple and Black Sapphire, that might end up much less private than he’d like.
So, the study it is.
Well…might as well get things started.
Carefully, Shadow Milk removes his Soul Jam from its usual spot on his ruff, immediately causing Pure Vanilla to straighten up at the sight. He moves the Soul Jam and affixes it lower, more on his stomach than his neck, just so that they have ample room to deal with the problem at hand.
He feels his jam thrumming in his body, and swallows dryly. Then, in one quick move, he pops off his frilly collar and pulls down his clothing a tad, finally baring his shame and feeling all the worse for it. Pure Vanilla has technically seen it before, since Shadow Milk has shown him his old self, but he likely doesn’t know its meaning, or that Shadow Milk still had the lock affixed to his very being in a way not dissimilar to his Soul Jam.
“Oh, I simply need you to unlock… this .” He hisses out, attempted nonchalance failing him immediately in light of his nerves, “Do whatever you have to do, I just need it off, I need it gone -“
Pure Vanilla’s hand comes up, and Shadow Milk’s voice fizzles out. It takes every last bit of his willpower to not yank himself away, to call this all off and go into hiding for the next eon or so. He forces himself to stay still, still, still, until-
Past
It takes him a long time to fully fall.
He’s long since lost his sense of duty to the foolish cookies demanding for him to give answers they don’t even want . He’s already paved the way for lies to flood the land, for deceit to steadily grow the moment he created the Apples of Deceit. This agenda of his has even found itself some secret followers, those he’s convinced to seek out and spread discord and lies.
And yet, he stays his hand from fully committing to more , hesitating.
There are…a few reasons for this, with one, unending reason being, of course, that ever present lock that sits just below his neck. The metal gleams and seems to burn when he considers finding a way to remove it, to finally rid himself of his chains and see what he could really do when free .
But he doesn’t remove it. He…can’t.
So it stays, and he stays, spinning idle lies in various forms as his body steadily twists, as what little gold melts away to blue, blue, blue. It’s not enough to fully corrupt him, not quickly, not blatantly, but he’s different, and he made the world different. He can feel it in every new lie uttered, the chaos and distrust seeding into his very core and growing stronger.
His friends - colleagues are much farther along in their own descension, he knows. It’s only a matter of time before he joins them in full. He’s bored enough, hurt enough, alone enough to fully commit. All cookies that inhabit Earthbread shall Know no peace for all they have forsaken, and demanded, and taken from the five of them over the eons of their existence.
…He misses them. It’s been too long.
…It’s been long enough , he believes.
The gold of the lock does not gleam as he waves a finger, magic flowing across his dough in an instant. The gold of the lock does not change as his attire transforms to better fit his upcoming performance. The gold of the lock stays the only gold thing about him as it is covered first by his ruffled collar, and then by his Soul Jam.
A sharp grin splits across his face as the soon to be Beast of Deceit, Shadow Milk Cookie, makes his grand debut.
Present
Pure Vanilla’s hand rests upon the keyhole of the lock. Shadow Milk can’t help the tremor that shakes his body nor hide the way he tenses.
Cloudy eyes look at him. “You truly want me to unlock this for you…?”
The grin comes easily, centuries of practice fitting it to his face in a second. “” Truly ”- what, do you think I was lying ? Does that sound like me, Nilly~?”
Pure Vanilla keeps silently looking at him.
The serious expression makes Shadow Milk falter. Instinctively, he feels a coiling, defensive anger build, ready to snap its jaws at the perceived weakness Pure Vanilla seems to see in him. Just as quickly as it builds, he forces it down, attempting to lock it away in a manner so fitting to their current situation that he’d find it humorous at any other time.
“…Yes. Yes, I want you to do this. Happy?”
“Hmm…” Pure Vanilla gently lifts his free hand to Shadow Milk’s face, cupping the side of it, bold with his touch in a way the jester still doesn’t know why he allows. “Shadow Milk, are you certain you’re ready to go through with this, right this moment?”
Shadow Milk breathes in a shaky breath, putting as much composure as he can in his words to cover his trembling. “Are you certain you’re ready to do this? I could be tricking you, you know. This could be a ploy for you to unlock unimaginable power within me.” The smile that cuts across his face is sharp, taunting. “Are you prepared to be the reason all of Earthbread is crumbled to dust, if that’s the case? Are you ready to shoulder the blame when deceit envelops all that you hold dear?”
“You seem fairly intent on convincing me to stop.” Pure Vanilla says softly, thumb rubbing gently against the blue. “I want to help you, that’s why I’m doing this. If it distresses you, frightens you, I do not need to continue.”
“I-“ The crack in his voice is humiliating, enraging, and from a far away place he sees himself rip his face out of Pure Vanilla’s hold, hears himself snarl, “Spare me the self-righteousness. Are you truly so dense to not even consider betrayal? From me ?”
“Shadow Milk-“
“I am the Beast of Deceit , and yet! Look at you! Trusting in whatever sliver of “good” you saw in me. Extending a hand again and again and again . Don’t blame me when it’s inevitably bitten off.”
The air around them is quiet, heavy. Pure Vanilla’s expression reveals nothing, his eyes boring into Shadow Milk’s own. His other hand still rests gently against the lock.
That is what brings Shadow Milk back, a revolting shame burning through his jam that forces him to avert his gaze. To act like a cornered beast, to so quickly lash out…he wonders, not for the first time, how he’s not been left to rot already.
Others have written him off for far, far less.
“…Sorry.” Shadow Milk mutters, shamed heat rising to his face and eyes, still intent on looking away. He’d forced that damned word out of his mouth before, but it still feels out of place upon his tongue. And still, the only one who’s ever gotten to hear it is the one sitting across from him.
Pure Vanilla does not say “it’s alright” or show any sign that Shadow Milk was forgiven, but he smiles again, and the hand that was formerly on the beast’s cheek goes to wrap gently around his wrist instead. His fingers easily encompass it but are in no way binding, and Shadow Milk is too tired to pretend it isn’t grounding.
“I simply wish to help you, my friend. I won’t do any more until you tell me that it is what you truly want.” Pure Vanilla squeezes Shadow Milk’s wrist, just once, enough for the trickster to feel the hidden strength the shepard possesses, enough for him to feel the rough callouses left from multiple lives worth of hard work.
Shadow Milk bites his tongue, hard enough for the taste of his jam to flood his mouth. The earnestness of the other sickens him, it truly does, that ever helpful and kind nature never fails to leave him feeling wrong footed and out of sorts. Again, the urge to lash out rises up, but he stamps it down, this time to more success.
“I want this.” He finally admits, the words viciously pulled from his throat so violently he could nearly feel the pain. “It’s- this lock has been here since the start. Those Witches, they put it on me, and they made me- it makes me- I need it off .”
His shaking never truly stopped, and after he finished speaking it only seemed to get worse. It’s harrowing. It’s horrifying. It’s humiliating . He should want this more than anything. He should be able to do it himself . It is the one thing he’s wanted since the very beginning. He doesn’t understand why he’s acting this way, like a scared child afraid of the dark, and that- that scares him. He doesn’t Know what will come from this.
Ah, cookies have ever feared the unknown.
He may not be as different from them all as he’d thought.
A strange newfound peace folds over him at the thought. Shadow Milk’s eyes flutter shut, one word he has never truly said drifting past his lips:
“ Please .”
Past
Just like all of his colleagues, his fall was inevitable. Even before he’d even begun to lie, cookies were disgusted, enraged, wary of all that he knew and all that he could tell.
They’d come in groups, just to ensure that the questions he ever did get asked were never ones that would startle the masses too much. And when he’d answer a question someone asked out of hand, the wary looks of derision would be instantaneous, even if the question was innocuous. Simply being the same being as the other Virtues was enough to draw cookies’ ire when they’d first started falling.
Cookies fear things they don’t understand. And what they fear, they hate. And what they hate…
Well.
If they’re already going to hate him…If they’re already going to think him a demon, a monster, a Beast …
…then why not indulge them?
Everyone Knows he’s rotten . They Know to fear him, to distrust him, and that Knowledge, that “common sense” just grows more and more… funny .
So, really, the Witches have no right to be surprised when the Beasts raze their precious Earthbread.
After all…
…they were Beasts of their own making.
He’ll never forget the hell that was that damned tree.
Present
All it takes is a flash of golden light. Shadow Milk’s hands dig into his thighs as warm magic flows into the keyhole of the lock, growing and spreading throughout it until finally-
Snap!
Both Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla watch as golden crumbs fall to the floor, so fine they could be considered dust. It was almost anticlimactic, how easily Pure Vanilla destroyed the lock. It was almost funny, how a healer could destroy something so thoroughly at all.
But, more than anything-
“Oh- oh !” A hysterical laugh punches out of Shadow Milk’s chest. “Of course that was it - oh, of course .”
“What’s wrong? Did it hurt you?” Pure Vanilla asks worriedly, his now free hand moving to the side to fiddle anxiously with his staff. “How do you feel?”
“How do I feel ?” He sneers, grin growing to include more teeth. “Oh, I feel absolutely nothing .” He pushes himself up, floating haphazardly into the air as everything suddenly makes sense . “Someone call Mystic Flour, because I might be encroaching on her territory!”
“Shadow Milk, what happened?” Pure Vanilla’s eyebrows scrunch up in concern. “What did unlocking it do?”
“What did it do ? I told you.” The grin falls off, a shadowed stare in its place. “ Nothing .”
It takes only a moment for Pure Vanilla to understand what he meant. The other was far from stupid, after all, no matter how Shadow Milk had insulted him previously. It didn’t take much for him to put two and two together.
“ Oh .” Pure Vanilla looks absurdly devastated on his behalf, “Oh, Shadow Milk…”
“It’s funny , isn’t it?” Shadow Milk smiles, smiles, smiles- “Here I was, baked with an irrational fear over removing my collar . Ah, ah, ah, those Witches really thought that’d tame the beast, hm? Too bad for them! It wasn’t enough to keep it docile , was it?”
“That’s-“
“ Honestly , they should’ve known better! I- I should have- should have Known -“
But he did Know, just as he Knew everything else. He Knew that it didn’t do anything. He Knew that it was just a lock. It was the fear and pain intentionally baked into his very being that tricked him into seeing it for more than it was, despite him Knowing better.
What an insult. What a humiliation. What a betrayal .
He’d had this lock from the start. They’d created him with it. Those Witches- even before sealing him, even before sentencing him to a life as a servant to the whims of all cookie kind, before everything , they’d already betrayed him.
And this, too, is something he already Knew.
From the moment he was created and forced to suffer through the tsunami of endless infinite Knowledge flooding deep into his mind, he was more than aware that the Witches never had his best interests at heart. Why, then, did this hit him so much harder?
Such a hypocrite he was, so childishly angry and hurt that the Witches would play mind games on him . As though those weren’t the very things he made his infamy off of! If anything, he should be delighted to have such an insidious play happen right underneath his nose.
Like creator like creation!
Shadow Milk laughs and laughs, a reverberating cackle with sharp, broken edges cutting into the room’s tension. “I should have Known better- Witches- always those Witches -!”
His laughter is cut off in a strangled choke as his curled body is slowly pulled down into an embrace. Warmth bleeds into him from behind as the familiar scent of vanilla floods his senses. Deceptively strong arms wrap around his torso in a loose but firm hold, the touch verging on “ too much ” and “ not enough .”
After a moment, when it’s clear that Shadow Milk is not about to pull away and run, Pure Vanilla raises a hand slowly, holding it just over the now bared space right below Shadow Milk’s neck. The beast swallows, but does nothing to stop the other, watching as slowly, slowly that hand presses in.
A pitched gasp, short and quiet, rings out. Dough that had never been touched before, not even by himself, was now feeling a soft, calloused touch.
The feeling is- overwhelming. It’s all he knows, now, and all he wants forevermore, and yet he wants to flee from it. It’s new to him, just like any touch is, but this…this is…
His eyes burn .
“It was wrong of them, to do this to you.” Pure Vanilla’s whisper comes right at Shadow Milk’s ear, and he covers up his responding shiver with a snort of derision.
“You’re a fool to think so. This should feel just to you , of all people.”
“It doesn’t. It doesn’t at all.”
“You’re naive. I’ve hurt you - quite a bit, in case you’ve forgotten . Yet seeing me like this doesn’t make you happy?”
“Suffering will never make me happy. Your past actions were more than wrong, but what was done to you is not just, and will never be just.”He feels himself be squeezed, slightly, the hand on his dough rubbing just barely as Pure Vanilla continues. “Your pain is not transactional to mine.”
“Such a fool…” Shadow Milk utters, all of his eyes falling shut as he becomes lost in the constant motions of Pure Vanilla’s hand.
His face feels wet.
Pure Vanilla hums, drawing Shadow Milk closer to himself in that sly little way of his, always more than happy for a chance to indulge himself the few times the jester allowed affection. “Does it hurt? Your dough, here.”
He presses down a little harder, causing Shadow Milk to suck in a breath of air. Pure Vanilla immediately removes the pressure, much to Shadow Milk’s chagrin.
“No, it doesn’t- hurt , so much as-“ Shadow Milk huffs, glad his heated, pathetic expression is facing away from the other, “It’s… sensitive .” He tries and fails to input a bit more liveliness into his voice. “Congratulations, you’re the only cookie in existence to have touched me there. Myself included.”
A pause, then the pressure returns, firmer this time, and it’s a lot but it’s- It’s soothing . It almost hurts, but more than that Shadow Milk feels…secure. The heat at his back and neck, the arms around his torso leaving his own arms free, the pressure on his newly bared skin…
He’s never had this.
He’s never had this.
Touch in general was already something he was far from used to, his admittedly humiliatingly frail body not really knowing how to respond to it. Pure Vanilla’s hand digging into where the lock used to sit is even more than that. The dough there is smooth and sensitive and even weaker than the rest of him. He won’t say it and risk that touch leaving once again, but he knows it’ll bruise.
He shuts his thoughts down before he admits to himself that he’s glad it will. It’d make it feel more real.
It’d make it true . Hah.
He’s vaguely aware of them moving to the floor, sat up solely through his own residual magic and Pure Vanilla’s solid hold. He’s- tired, actually physically tired, oddly enough. Weary to the point of feeling it deep in his dough. It’s not a feeling he’s too familiar with, especially when no real fight accompanied it.
Still, he can’t fall asleep. Soothed as he may be, his rage and defeat has left its scars already, and every minute tremor rubs at the raw wounds.
Reluctantly, he pulls out of Pure Vanilla’s hold, away from his touch. Pure Vanilla makes no move to stop him, patiently waiting as Shadow Milk situated himself in front of him.
Shadow Milk nods at the healer in thanks, just enough for him to deny it should he wish to.
Pure Vanilla sees right through him, and doesn’t acknowledge the slight gratitude, merely smiling softly to himself. After a moment, the royal cookie asks, “Is it strange? To not have that lock anymore?”
“Oh, yes! It feels as though someone had cut off a part of my dough and left the wound gaping open and jammy.” At Pure Vanilla’s wide eyed look, he adds, “In a good way!”
That relaxes Pure Vanilla some, “Thousands of years bearing that on your dough…I remember seeing the design before, in your spire.” He pauses, “Now that I think about it, there were quite a lot of depictions of it. Even the last room had a giant lock in it.”
Not for the first time, Shadow Milk curses his past self for not being more discreet.
“Well, the spire was me, so it stands to reason that it’ll be stylized after me , doesn’t it?”
“I suppose…” Pure Vanilla trails off, getting that look in his eyes he always got when he was about to be too stupidly kindhearted and forgiving. “It’s affected you terribly, all this time…”
Shadow Milk scoffs and waves a hand dismissively. “And I affected Earthbread terribly, all this time. So I dare say the lock and I are even at this point.” His gaze flits to the golden crumbs still dusting the floor. “Besides, look at it now! Show’s over for it, and I’m hoping that’s one that doesn’t get an encore.”
An uncharacteristically steely look grows in Pure Vanilla’s eyes as he too looks at the remnants of the lock. “Yes…this certainly won’t happen again.”
…Shadow Milk clears his throat.
“Anyway! Thank you ever so much for the assistance, believe me when it feels as though a weight has been lifted off my chest - oh! Because it has , haha!” As he talks, Shadow Milk subtly fixes his face of any tear stains and moves to adjust his attire and put his Soul Jam back in its usual place before he pauses.
His Soul Jam usually sat right in front of the lock, not right against it considering the collar he wore was between them, but now…
Impulsively, he tosses his fluffy collar into the other realm, ignoring his other half’s surprised noise as he carefully, carefully affixes his Soul Jam to the black, not-as-fluffy collar he still wore. It felt…strange, thrumming against his body with no frills or ruffles in the way. Metallic, but not cold or unwelcome.
He feels better, covering that vulnerable spot on him back up. He was starting to feel a bit too exposed with nothing there, but the frilly collar would have covered things too much, hidden what he just accomplished, and he…he likes that he feels free .
For once, the smile on his face is not a grin nor a smirk, but a genuine one.
“That’s a new look for you.” Pure Vanilla comments, his staff back in hand and his own small smile growing just a bit larger at seeing Shadow Milk’s.
“Oh please, you’ve barely seen a blip of the “looks” I can do. Oh, there’s a form of mine that was pretty popular , you know. Or perhaps you’d prefer the magician.” He winks, “Maybe I’ll let you meet her sometime.”
Shadow Milk laughs as he teases the now slightly red faced Pure Vanilla, but his mind is occupied on the novel feeling of something else sitting where the lock once sat. It’s still so- new . Something he hasn’t felt in his entire existence.
His Purpose, the tree, the lock…all of it was meant to chain him, to bind him in place to serve whatever need was demanded, whether that be to answer, to be sealed, or to simply obey. Shadow Milk’s never known a life without at least one of them at his throat.
When he blinks, he hears the cries of cookies calling for his attention, turning into shouts and whispers of anger and condemnation, turning into screams of terror or manic laughter.
When he blinks, he sees the silver chains binding him to thousands of years of confinement, freedom being a word he nearly forgot the definition of if not for the plan he schemes away at to break them all out of their hell.
When he blinks, he feels the lock on his body, melded to him and sinking deeper, following him through it all as the shadow of the keyhole haunts his subconscious.
But, now- he’s actually, finally free . He blinks, and he sees the visions of his chains, but when his eyes open, not a single one of them are there. A giddy sort of glee fills him, a near childlike wonder that he’s never had the privilege to feel before floods his chest. It’s a new and strange and off putting feeling, and embarrassingly , he can’t help but be relieved that if he’s experiencing it, it’s with his other half only.
Next to him, he hears Pure Vanilla speak.
“Shadow Milk?”
“…Thank you.”
He’s free .