Chapter Text
Pavlova Cookie stared at her from across the garden, scoffing as she fulfilled her duty of watering the flowers. The task originally belonged to him but earlier that morning he had pushed the task onto Sugarfly. Sugarfly Cookie—unlike Pavlova—did not mind the meaningless daily tasks that were assigned to the two by their bringer of happiness, Eternal Sugar Cookie. Pavlova, however, despised the fact that she had taken over his task so willingly.
Today however had ticked him off a little more than usual. Watering the flowers was one of the few tasks the meringue-based cookie could fulfill with little to no complaining and a decent job done. Sugarfly knew that, yet she still didn’t object when all he told her was a simple ‘I don’t feel like it’ and ‘you should do it instead’ statement. Instead, she gladly took on the task without any arguing whatsoever.
Preoccupied with the thought of their earlier interaction, Pavlova felt his body start to move in the direction of the other cookie. By the time he realized what was happening, it was already too late to stop it. He wasn’t that far away from her to begin with, so he was at her side before he knew it.
“Hello Pavlova,” she warmly greeted. “What brings you here? I thought you said you didn’t feel like watering the flowerbed.”
Pavlova stayed rooted to his spot, just barely hovering over the grass. He didn’t know why he was there either. All he could do was stare at the ground trying to come up with a response. “Why did you take on my job?” he blurted out.
Sugarfly kept to her task, unfazed by the question. “I enjoy looking at the flowers and this gives me the excuse to,” she answered. “They each display their own beauty, and by giving them the right resources, they flourish.”
“But don’t you ever grow tired? The flowers always remain the same.”
“I could ask you the same question about many things, Pavlova.”
“Like what?” he questioned, getting all defensive.
The sugar butterfly smiled in response. “Your wings, you’re always flying everywhere and never giving them a chance to rest.”
Pavlova could almost glare at her. Almost. “My wings only look small and weak. You should be well aware by now that this exterior is only an illusion. Besides, walking takes too much effort,” he explained. “I’ve seen you trip hundreds of times.”
She nodded her head in recollection. “Yes, yes, I remember. It’s not the first time you’ve mentioned it.
“And I’ll keep saying it until you remember!” he huffed.
There was a pause after his words, a short silence no one knew how to break.
“Why do you even enjoy these dumb things anyway?” Pavlova, having always hated awkwardness, blurted out. Once he realized he had spoken, he quickly made a follow-up to his question. “They don’t do anything but sit there and demand constant care.”
Sugarfly giggled to herself. “Much like you, don’t you think?” she smiled. Before the meringue-based cookie had any time to get upset by her comment, she answered with a simple, “Because they’re pretty to look at.”
Much like you, Pavlova thought for a split second before the thought was shoved to the very back of his mind. “Nice try but you’ve already said that,” he managed to squeeze out.
Sugarfly Cookie answered with a smile and a slight nod. “I suppose I have, haven’t I?” She looked back towards the flowers. “They also have a nice aroma,” she responded, picking a flower coloured in a deep violet blue.
“What's the name of that one?” The question slipped out before he could stop it. Pavlova normally couldn’t care less about flowers, much less ponder about each of their names.
The question didn’t surprise Sugarfly, though, at least not visibly. “This one’s a bluebell. It’s one of my favorites of the ones we keep in the garden.”
“What's special to you about bluebells?” he inquired, feeling too deep in the conversation to pull out now.
“Bluebells… They remind me of my home.”
“Your home?” he questioned, both surprised and curious to know more about Sugarfly Cookie’s origins. He knew she wasn’t native to the garden like he was, but this was his first time questioning where she came from.
“I travelled here from the faerie kingdom,” she whispered. “Bluebells were one of the common flowers that grew there. Albeit we only had the white ones.” A second after speaking, her face tinted with a hint of grief that nearly caused the other cookie to wince in response.
“Your home… Do you miss it?”
It was a simple question, but it still caught her off guard. Sugarfly was slightly taken aback but quickly regained her composure. “Never mind, forget I said anything,” she said. “It's all just distant memories of the past. The garden has everything I could ever need. True happiness can only be granted here.”
Pavlova has heard those words a million times before. Although he preferred to avoid praising the garden like it was the plague, he was well aware that the act was freakishly common among all the other cookies residing there. Despite the fact that praise of the garden was normal, it downright pained him to hear those words out of Sugarfly’s mouth. Partially because, unlike other cookies, he was well aware the words weren’t true, as well as the fact that he could tell she sometimes didn’t believe the words either.
Sugarfly stood up to leave, bidding Pavlova a quick goodbye. After all, she had many other chores to complete that day. Besides, he could tell that the conversation had gotten uncomfortable for her, so he thought it was best to let her go since she was so determined to keep believing in this false fantasy of paradise.
He watched her walk away before turning back to the flowerbed, studying each flower carefully. Despite brushing off her earlier remarks about the flower, Pavlova Cookie decided to collect a few snippings of both it and others like it. After much thought, he gathered them all up and tied them together with a red ribbon. Maybe while Sugarfly Cookie was out doing chores he could slip the bouquet into her pavilion.