Work Text:
The moon had hung high in the sky since he got here, stars dancing around it, eyes from the otherrealm constantly stalking over the spire.
Pure Vanilla was not sure why he was looking out the window. The scenery had not changed one bit since they got here. Moon and stars high up in the sky, dark against the spire's pure white walls, while puppets of cakehounds chasing cream sheep ran mechanically in circles.
Intriguingly but to little surprise, there was no wind in this realm. The air was cold and reeked of something unnatural. Compared to the light breezes of the Vanilla Kingdom, the air felt suffocating, freezing your lungs from the inside out.
In contrast to the harsh air outside, the room Shadow Milk had prepared him was strangely comfortable, creepily similar to his own chambers in his home in the Vanilla Kingdom. A soft, cream bed with desks made of waffle, as well as the plush furniture. A glass of milk on one table that he was not going to touch. A single, handmade plushie of none other than Shadow Milk sat in one of the couches. Its button eyes always observing.
Pure Vanilla—or Truthless Recluse as he referred to himself as—walked across the room, his long, dark robes trailing over the cold floor. His staff tapped the ground in an even rhythm, synchronous with his steps. The eyes on it blinked irregularly, flashing across the room as if looking out for an ambush that never came.
His steps stopped just in front of the plushie. With his free hand, he leaned over and picked it up, looking over the craftsmanship. The stitches were placed neatly, white crown perched on his head. The very same, droplet shaped crown that used to be heavy on the Fount of Knowledge's brow. A smile sewn into the light blue fabric. A smile that felt much too soft for the beast that had turned him into this.
In contrast to the sweet smile of the doll, Pure Vanilla's face contorted in disgust. Disgust was easier to express than the complicated emotions the plush smile stirred. For every twitch of the brow, for every tug of the lips, for every shift in posture, it was a performance in this realm. You never know when you're being observed by its master, for everything here is a show for an audience of one.
With a hit of his staff onto the ground, a portal of the otherrealm opened. The stuffed toy was tossed inside without a second glance, the crown falling off. A foul breeze fluttered through the short blond hair on the back of his neck as the portal closed again, the doll gone without a trace. Pure Vanilla didn't care if Shadow Milk knew he could control a part of the otherrealm too. If he did, throwing his toy in there was an indirect middle finger.
Keeping your face in line with your actions is a pivotal part of acting. Actions were easier to fake and hide feelings in order to deceive others, yet they become meaningless if your face tells the truth nonetheless.
Just as he was about to sit down on the now empty chair, a loud shrill of a speaker echoed through the room. Pure Vanilla flinched at the sudden noise.
"My dear guests, Ladies and Gentlemen," an, unfortunately, familiar voice boomed from everywhere and nowhere. It was static and slightly distorted, like it came from a speaker.
The door to his room opened with a small squeak, and two figures stepped in from the hallway, one taller and one shorter. It didn't take a lot of effort to recognise them.
Black Sapphire tilted his head at Pure Vanilla sitting in the chair, his microphone tilted away from where he had spoken into it a second earlier. "Oh? Just one gentleman then? I'd have expected your little friends to be by your side by now."
Pure Vanilla perked up slightly at the mention of Gingerbrave, Strawberry and Wizard. He hadn't seen them since he went to this very room. In order to keep his pretence of indifference up for Shadow Milk, he'd left them alone alongside Black Sapphire and Candy Apple. "I left them with you. They aren't here."
Candy Apple, who'd been standing next to Black Sapphire with her arms crossed, chirped in, "My My, what trust you put in us! how do you know we haven't crumbled them yet?"
"Have you?" He glared at the pair.
A hand landed on Black Sapphire's forehead. Not because of Pure Vanilla, but because of the girl next to him. Before she could retort, he slapped a hand over her mouth. "Wherever in this grand Spire they may be, I'm sure they're doing just fine. Now, my Master—"
Candy Apple yanked his hand off her mouth and interjected. "OUR Master."
He shot her a look and cleared his voice, "ahem, our Master Shadow Milk has requested your presence in the ball room. We were sent to tell you."
Pure Vanilla rose, his staff helping him up from the plush seat. "Since when is there a ballroom."
The smaller girl clasped her hands together, hearts in her eyes, "Master Shadow Milk is capable of so many marvellous things that you will never begin to grasp! If it's by his whim, he could swallow all of Earthbread and plunge it—"
"That's enough, you wouldn't want to scare our guest now, would you!" Black Sapphire grabbed her by her shoulders, spinning her around and with a flat palm on her back, pushed her towards the hallway again, "Master Shadow Milk is not known for his patience. I'd advise you to meet him sooner rather than later."
And with that, he closed the door behind them and left. Pure Vanilla could still hear them bickering, something about Candy Apple wanting to dance with Shadow Milk instead of the 'stupid vanilla fool'.
Pure Vanilla frowned at the mention of a dance. Nonetheless, he made his way out of the room, and the two Minions were long out of sight.
The Spire has been decorated thoroughly since he first stepped foot in it. Even back when the illusion of the Spire of all Knowledge draped over it. Portraits lined the walls of the path he was walking. Where once hung golden frames, showing the Fount of Knowledge, now were portraits of Shadow Milk's countless disguises. Whether it be the painting of a lady with long, white hair, the golden plate reading, 'Lady Milk Crown', or that of an old scholar with a long beard, that looked similar to the wise cookie that posed him and White Lily the riddle to enter this very Spire. Other portraits of the Fount of Knowledge still hung, yet they were crossed out with thick, cyan strokes.
While walking, the white columns seemed to shift in front of Pure Vanilla's eyes, baring a path that led him straight ahead. It was an unseeming way, the same blue and white tiles as everywhere else, lined with gold at the edges. Perfect tile work, without a blemish to criticise.
Eventually, after another turn, a large entrance appeared in his view. It was made of two separate doors, blue with many a white splash, like someone tossed a paint bucket at it. The two golden handles were in the shape of a moon and a sun, craftsmanship impeccable.
Two marionettes in tutus danced in front of him with a twirl. They weren't cookies, they didn't even have faces. Just dolls, strung by Shadow Milk. In comparison to the rest of his creations, these dolls stood out. No trace of any blue hue was on them, just the bleak brown of wood. They seemed to be hand crafted at that, just that their maker didn't have time to pretty them up. The woodwork, upon closer inspection, was messy. Rough and uneven, the heads bulky, undefined, while the details on their dresses were lacklustre. The joints were stiff and creaked with each pained movement. Unbecoming work, even of Shadow Milk himself.
Looking up, Pure Vanilla did see strings attached to the marionettes. Yet as much as he squinted his eyes, the strings led up into nothing, just pure black, with the faintest blue eyes blinking back down. Of course. Dark Moon Magic. With another shrill squeak of the dolls joints, they reached for the handles of the door.
With a bow, they put their hands on one handle each. Pure Vanilla stared for a moment, and then glanced up at the otherrealm from which they hung. A flick of his wrist was enough to yank them up whence they came.
Instead, he opened the door himself. Pure Vanilla pushed down the golden handle on the left, the moon shaped one, and opened it. The second door swung open too, untouched.
The floor tiles blue, lined with gold at the edges. If it weren't for the buffet lined up to the left, one might've assumed that this was an observatory—the roof was made of glass, rays of the real moon streaming in. The pattern of the glass tiles threw a canopy of sparkling light on the ground, in the shape of his—and by extension, Shadow Milk's—Souljam on the ground, with many a sparkling star around it.
And right in the center, the showhost stood. Light falling softly on his features, he'd been looking up and outside, at the moon herself. Upon hearing the door open, his neck twisted unnaturally, looking at his visitor. It made Pure Vanilla flinch just slightly, only the smallest twitch in his brow. The rest of the beasts body followed suit, and faced his visitor.
"Well there you are! I was already thinking you'd lost your way!" Shadow Milk said, floating down, until his heeled feet touched the ground. With the slightest click he stood, and dipped for the recluse.
With a sudden spell, he disappeared into a cloud of blue smoke, only to reappear in front of Pure Vanilla. The smirk was still plastered wildly on his face, the unexpected movement making him take a step back away from Shadow Milk.
"That's all it takes to scare a hero such as you, Vanilla? Oh, I'm almost disappointed!" He threw his head back in laughter, echoing through the hall.
With a cheshire grin that was all teeth, he snipped his long, clawed fingers. In less than a blink of an eye the table, which had previously stood on the left, floated over to the middle of the room, moonlight falling over the meticulously prepared meals. From candy pasta to multiple jelly deluxe pizzas, even sweetberry juice or just a jellybean latte—somehow, something for every taste.
Pure Vanilla was still eyeing the dishes with apprehension and suspicion, when something hit the back of his knees, making them buckle and fall into a cushioned seat, that promptly shoved the former healer so far into the table that he had to suppress a grunt of pain. Creating some distance between himself and the wood he was just slammed into, he rubbed his stomach from the impact. The next glance upwards was met with Shadow Milk's own.
The beast was already sat at the opposite end of the table. Between the piles of dishes stood a single candelabra, two candles alight in the golden frame.
"As much of a nightmare as I might be," Shadow Milk began, elbow on the table while gesturing animatedly with his other hand, legs thrown over the armrest, "I still have the decency of a host. A small habit I seem to have picked up from a dear friend of mine."
Pure Vanilla didn't bother asking who said friend was supposed to be, for he didn't care in the least. His arms were stiff at his sides, not doing anything with the food except stare holes into it. In itself, the meals served looked appetising, but the presence of the other had knocked any appetite out of him. Some excuse was always to be found.
Across the table, Shadow Milk sensed the tension in his other half. He had already taken a bite out of the steak jelly closest to him, chewing on it gleefully. "It ain't poisoned, mon ange." He swung around with his fork, "Ya gotta eat something. Can't be my favourite little plaything when you die from malnutrition, so we wouldn't want that!"
The gaze meeting his was nothing if not cold and detached. "I am not your angel, nor your plaything, Shadow Milk." Truth to be told—ironic in this situation, really—he didn't know why he was even here. Perhaps it was the concern about the wellbeing of his friends. Perhaps it was simply embracing futility, for there was nothing better up in his room anyway.
Blinking between the empty plate in front of Pure Vanilla and the feast he had prepared, the beast clicked his tongue. "Fine, you stubborn old fool. Went through all the trouble of aesthetics and taste, and that's what I get." And the table disappeared. With that, the chairs did too. Shadow Milk still lay perfectly mid air, while the other fell onto the floor with a startled gasp, staff clinking on the ground next to him. "But I'm having Black Sapphire prepare an extra portion for you for breakfast. And think again if you hope I'm letting you skip that one."
Pure Vanilla reached for his staff, leaning on it as he got up from the cold floor. His hand reached out to dust off his dark robes, and straighten the hat that sat upon golden locks. "Are we quite finished now?" A low, raspy question, the mild threat not going unnoticed.
And of course, Shadow Milk did not take well to being threatened.
"Oh, well look at that! So eager to leave poor ol' me behind! I wonder..." The beast trailed off, not meeting Pure Vanilla's stern gaze.
In an instant, Dark Cacao stood next to him. Yet his eyes were a deep, tainted blue, gleaming with malice. Not the stern yet kind eyes he knew so well. The recluse took a step away from the imitation in mild horror of this unexpected sight. Seems like Shadow Milk would not spare an effort in tormenting him, even through his friends. Or rather, illusions of them.
"You know Pure Vanilla, you're always so quick to help everyone, but not your other half with some entertainment?" grunted the mimicry of the warrior.
With a step to the right, behind Pure Vanilla, a familiar face formed yet again, albeit missing her shield, "Come on! Or must we drag you again?"
Just as quickly as the last one, the husk of Hollyberry vanished into the air, replaced by a cookie with utmost golden splendor. "Hm! look at these muddy, dark robes, you certainly had better days."
With a click of his staff against the white tiles, Pure Vanilla turned around to leave this madhouse of a ballroom. Just as he was about to reach for the handles, a hand shot out, grabbing his wrist and stopping him. The feeling of the dark green wrapping around fingers was too familiar. He looked to his right, and there she indeed was.
White Lily. The last of his friends that Shadow Milk had yet to mock. He knew it was an illusion, every last remaining, tainted instinct was yelling at him to just open the door and leave—but his body didn't obey.
The jester had outdone himself with the performance. She was nearly indistinguishable from her real self, save for the blue mark over her eye. These eyes that looked so pitifully at him, "You lied to your friends for me, Hero of Truth. Or was this Truth never your virtue to begin with?"
With the flick of a wrist, she tugged a stand of his hair behind his ear, securing it with a pristine, almost crystalline White Lily flower, its pure shade a stark contrast to the rest of his gloomy appearance. Her smile was the softest thing he'd seen since his arrival here. A hand traced along his cheek, bandaged thumb brushing over his jawline, tracing up to caress his cheekbone.
He'd nearly missed the way that a crimson light engulfed the room, and tainted her hair red. The glowing moon caught his eyes, before it split in half seemingly by itself.
And when his gaze returned to White Lily, her form was distorted, short white hair and black robes, none other than Dark Enchantress.
With a flick of his staff, the woman was thrown to the ground, and he sneered down at her changing form, shifting back to the blue that was all too familiar by now.
Touching the flower in his hair, he noticed how its delicate petals formed into that of a cup—a milkcrown bloom.
The beast on the ground had long since started laughing maniacally, wiping a clawed hand under his eye to stop the tears of laughter, "oh you weak cookie! you claim to be a being of deceit like me, yet fall for the cheapest tricks!"
"Are we quite finished here now?" Pure Vanilla's gaze tightened on Shadow Milk as the latter began to get up again.
"Oh, in such a hurry to leave, are we?" He teased, "leaving dreary ol' me alone again, fine then."
The other had almost opened the door by himself. His hand halted halfway to the handle. "If you leave me and my friends in peace. What do you want?"
The recluse was barely looking at him. Shadow Milk, on the other hand, suppressed a delighted laugh. The staff he'd left at the side flew into his hand, and turned into a jesters hat. He leaned down in a flourish, spine arching in a bow. Pure Vanilla finally turned to face him.
"May I have this dance, my truth?" he asked, his voice a fickle whisper. The grin was not gone, for he was still smirking and looking at Pure Vanilla, one eye closed in a wink.
His grip tightened on his staff, and scoffed. "What's the point?"
"The point is, that there is none!" he announced cheerfully, straightening his posture and, with one swift motion, appearing next to him, taking one hand and lifting it above his head, "You and I, forever in this tower, just like you said! Really, my great Spire offers so much, and yet you just want to sit and sulk? Nope!" He popped the 'p'.
Shadow Milk floated back to the middle of the room, and asked once again, "So, I ask again—may I have this dance, mon ange?"
Pure Vanilla let his staff rest against the wall, its blue eyes following his movement, and stepped forth and laid his hand into that of the beast. He'd expected a sudden pull, a painful grip, a manic reaction, yet received nothing of the sorts.
Guided by the other, a little brazenly but not painfully, the music began to swell. A loud orchestra of dozens of instruments opened, and settled into a dramatic waltz. Shadow Milk hovered just slightly over the ground, leading his, still somewhat, unwilling partner.
His movements were much more fluid compared to Pure Vanilla, leading him step after step. One clawed hand rested on the other's waist, both anchor and cage.
While he had been afraid of harm, he hadn't considered a whole different aspect—how possessive Shadow Milk's grip would be.
The way his hand rested on Pure Vanilla's waist, digging the pads of his fingers into the fabric of the dark coat. But never the sharp talons that could've torn the fabric—and the wearer himself, probably—to shreds.
Their hands, outstretched and interlaced, told the same tale. While his own were trembling and loose, Shadow Milk's held on with quiet certainty.
Pure Vanilla had to think back to the plushie he'd tossed into the otherrealm earlier. It probably landed outside somewhere. Just as conflicted about keeping it as he was then, he was about this dance now. But this time it wasn't with a stuffed toy, but with the very real beast.
The pair of eyes weren't made of buttons, no innocent stitched smile.
Two uneven eyes, one azure and one cyan, looked down at him with malicious mirth. Pupils, slit like that of a wolf, focused solely on him, twitching down his face every now and then. A half-lidded gaze, and behind it, a thousand ringing, loud lies, drowned by the steadiness of his movements and the melody of the orchestra that seemed to play everywhere and nowhere.
Shadow Milk's smile wasn't as bright as the dolls, nor as innocent, if it ever even was. A hint of teeth lay bare in his grin, as if taken from the Cheshire Cat and plastered onto the beast.
And despite that, Shadow Milk's lead was fluid and graceful, floating through the air weightlessly. Though his partner was left on his feet, stumbling and stepping on his own toes.
"Really, I'd have expected a better dance from a king," the beast commented as Pure Vanilla tripped over the long hem of his cape again.
He didn't honor it with a reply, instead focusing on the steps.
Seeing how the recluse struggled, Shadow Milk glanced down. Pulling him just a bit tighter, muttering the instruction under his breath, "Step, move, close. Step, move, close."
He nudged Pure Vanilla's hand from its awkward positioning on his shoulder underneath the white ruff, to a more comfortable hold on his upper arm.
Although still stiff, his steps improved in confidence. Keeping up at last, he muttered, "wouldn't have taken you for a dancer."
"Well 'Nilly, ain't it nice I can still surprise you?" The other grinned, "As you know, I am many things!" He spun Pure Vanilla by his hand, catching him back in his embrace, sending the recluse's cape flying over the tiles.
Their steps evened out, falling into the rhythm of the pompous, orchestral music. "Dancing is one way to pass the time when spending an eternity stuck in a tree," he wasn't looking at the other anymore, his gaze filled with memories of the eternity he'd endured. "Although I wouldn't have minded different people to be locked up with."
And thus, the rambling began, "Sugar's the best out of all of them for that matter. Was willing to indulge me once or twice, but too lazy to honor the art of dance. Flour ignored every time I asked. Tsk, dancing with her would've been below me. Spice is too much of a brute to respect such a delicate and fine art. And you'd expect a knight like our dear Salt to be chivalrous, but nope! Nada! Honestly, can you imagine what I had to deal with!"
Pure Vanilla wasn't listening. They kept dancing, winding circles around the room. But Shadow Milk noticed how his attention had waned.
As the melody peaked, the moon outside shone brighter into the room, reflecting into a myriad of scattered hues. Pure Vanilla looked past the beast, eyes catching on the sudden change of lighting, only to be bent backwards.
Shadow Milk had floated just slightly higher, dipping the recluse down, until only one of his feet remained on the white tiles, hat dropping on the floor. "Distracted, are we?"
Leaning closer, the beast let his gaze drop down Pure Vanilla's face, before flicking up to his mismatched eyes again.
The other kept still, even as he leaned in closer, white locks brushing the star on his forehead. Eyes widened with a mix of horror and anticipation, a silent gasp leaving his mouth ever so slightly open.
"Grow a backbone, will ya?"
A portal opened beneath the recluse's feet, dark, echoing with whispers of deceit. Pure Vanilla held on tighter, clinging to the beast as he peeked down into the expanding abyss. He was off-balance, he'd fall if it weren't for Shadow Milk to hold him.
The impulse to trust the Beast of Deceit is a questionable one at best, and a foolish one at worst. Trust was something that shouldn't be laid bare in a place like this, especially if the facade of a cynical recluse should endure.
Smirking at the futile attempt to hold on, Shadow Milk cheered, "toodles, 'Nilly!"
And he let go.
A sensation of cold that nipped at his bones was the last thing that Pure Vanilla felt before hitting the plushness of his bed.
He was in his room. Safe for the time being.
The moon outside, whole and peaceful, cast the softest, silver shadows into the room.
Pure Vanilla sighed, relaxing on his bed, spread like a starfish.
Until a sudden cold breeze descended over him from above, the same cold that he just traveled through. It didn't evoke a great reaction on him, just a furrowed brow over closed eyes. A dance with the Beast of Deceit was more taxing than one would expect at first glance.
And just as he was starting to ignore the coldness radiating from above...
Thwack.
An undignified sound escaped Pure Vanilla as his staff landed from the portal above right in his face. "Forgot something!" Shadow Milk's voice echoed through the portal before it closed.
He pushed it off his face, clattering on the floor, and rubbed his nose with a grunt.
After a moment of quiet, the recluse turned to his side. Sleep was not something he had the luxury for right now. Who knows where he'll wake up if he lets his guard down — on the top of the spire would be his best guess.
Something blue drew his eyes up, a contrast to the soft beige of the couch he was facing.
The plushie of Shadow Milk he'd tossed away earlier. Its wide grin was replaced with a stitched, almost pityful, downturned mouth.
Above it, a sign hovering mid air, 'kiss here to make him feel better', and an arrow pointing at the soft forehead of the plushie.
Pure Vanilla sat up, staring at the toy, and reached out to take it. "You are pathetic, Shadow Milk."
-
Shadow Milk closed the portal with a tap of his foot after tossing in Pure Vanilla's staff, a proud expression on his face. He left the hat lying on the ground on purpose, might motivate the other to come and get it himself.
With the turn of his heel, he steered towards the door, swinging it open.
Being the master of a spire and a beast was a busy job. The new dress for Candy Apple wouldn't sew itself, neither would a new pair of earrings for Black Sapphire craft themselves.
Once the door swung closed behind him, the notable absence of his puppets was a new riddle.
"Ugh, did I not set them up correctly," a complaint muttered to no one.
It died on his lips as he saw the tangle of stings overhead.
"Wow, I put in SO much of my effort, until the last second so everything would be perfect when you arrive. So ungrateful for the so-called 'humble' saint." Pulling down the puppets, he held their limp forms again. Fixing and actually perfecting them was something he should finish sooner rather than later, lest this happen to them again. Shoulders sagged just a little as he tried to undo the mess.
Just as he pulled the second one down to take with him, he felt a gentle pressure against his forehead, the ghost of a touch.
Shadow Milk smirked, all eyes on him blinking in surprise.
"Well well, mon ange, who would've thought."