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Summary
Pure Vanilla was alone. Rather, had been left alone. After his friends had so callously betrayed him and everything they all stood for. The sky was dark with the absence of the moon. The castle was quiet this late at night. The only sound came from Pure Vanilla himself, bare feet on tiled floor. He hated the noise, but he could not bring himself to stop pacing, as if he would simply keel over and die like a fish that didn’t have the energy to propel itself forward and allow water to soak into its gills. He had fought and won a war before, yes, but this was different. Back then, he had the naivete of youth, the support of his friends, the sureness of his people. Those friends had turned on him. Even White Lily, his beloved White Lily, had fallen from her grace. Nothing had felt real in the time since: it was little more than a dream to Pure Vanilla. Just a strangely long-lasting play that he watched from the back of the theatre. And in the back of the theatre, he didn’t know who exactly was watching.
or: pure vanilla loses it and becomes EVIL pure vanilla