Chapter Text
Pure Vanilla was falling again.
Everything around him was dark, hugging him so tight he was left heaving, pitch-black nothingness all too consuming.
When breathing became possible, Pure Vanilla pressed his palms harder against the ceramic tiles, eyes fluttering open in surprise. He was falling, then he wasn't.
A giant ivory white column stared back at him, cold and looming.
This place was...
A well-known voice echoed through the halls of the Spire, as if announcing himself on stage. Shadow Milk Cookie. Pure Vanilla braced himself, looking around for his staff as he hid against the column.
“What's the matter?”
A cookie trembled, their features hard too distinguish in this angle, desperation was like sugar, coating their voice entirely, “My children— they don't want to eat. I don't know what to do!”
Pure Vanilla bit his lips. He couldn't see Shadow Milk Cookie from this angle and distance, nor his staff was nowhere to be found, “Worry not, you must simply do this…”
Metal clanked, then soft music entered his ears. It was a lullaby, one he'd heard when he was just a kid. It was one of those rare occasions Pure Vanilla visited the town. A craftsmen had his wares laid on the table. Pure Vanilla couldn't forget that tiny music box for nothing. He wanted it so badly, but they barely had enough to feed their sheep. “Play this when they're giving you trouble.”
“Oh. Wow! Thank you, Fount!” and so the cookie ran off, with a box clutched tight against their dough.
Everything fell to an eerie silence.
Pure Vanilla squeezed to another pillar, using the bookshelves, the smell of old paper and rectangular blurs guiding him mostly, around to hide. He didn't wanted to find Shadow Milk without being able to properly see. Yet, his overwhelming presence was enough to leave Pure Vanilla weak.
“I know that you're here.”
He stopped, chest thumping wildly.
“You need to be,” Shadow Milk— no… Fount of Knowledge whispered to the dark sky. The dark silhouette of his robes was just like the statues all around the spire. Pure Vanilla approached by the corners, his feet stumbling to the familiar shape of his staff. He grasped the object just in time to see the cookie's shaking fists, “This can't be all that we… all that I am.”
Pure Vanilla blinked, eyes adjusting to the sudden light.
When he finally could see, the scene in front of him had changed. Fount was writing on a blackboard, books and more books open one atop of the other. A chaotic display that fitted the cookie Pure Vanilla knew best.
“I am this close, this close to finding out the truth! A shame you pitiful little cookies can't be here to witness this,” he smiled, humming with confidence. Pure Vanilla couldn't help but notice how sad his declaration felt being spoken to an empty room.
“If my creators wish not to hear me then fine!” Fount laughed, dangling dangerously from the ladder he'd climbed to reach another book, Pure Vanilla felt his fingers tense. “I'll simply reach them instead.”
Fount groaned, arms not long enough to reach the shelf. He swung his body forward, nails tapping at the leather cover. Close. So close.
Pure Vanilla screamed as he surged, “Careful—!”
Pitch dark emptiness.
He couldn't help groan with frustration. Just when things finally made some sense, this place turned him upside down again.
A low growl pulled him back to the present, “What are you doing here?”
Pure Vanilla's lips moved, a raspier, much different voice came instead, “…Shadow Milk Cookie.”
“Is the old age treating you well? Got so bored of your little fairies you couldn't help talking to your jailed bird, Elder Faerie Cookie?”
“How did you found out about the Night of The Witches?”
Shadow Milk Cookie made a disgruntled noise, all fake pose died, “What? I thought we had put that little event behind us.”
Elder Faerie sighed, “I am not asking again.”
“Too dumb to find on your own?” he snickered. The guardian's eyes flickered with annoyance, his feet moving towards the exit, Shadow Milk's response came exasperated, “I calculated how far each batch of new cookies lasted, their components…
"It was a very boring and time consuming task, mind you. Each witch has their favorites, their own bias! Blegh! They rarely gather like this.”
“You heard this much?” Elder Faerie stopped, curiosity steaming from his usual cold dough.
“Hah! Now you wanna hear about it? Too bad!” Blue claws grasp at the wooden ramifications, so fierce it's a miracle they're still intact, “I had even send you an invitation.”
Elder Faerie remains composed, stating simply, “Your reputation wasn't on it's highest points.”
“Oh, really?” Pure Vanilla feels his limbs growing heavy, hatred so dense his soul mirrors back, “Look who's running after who.”
“I just had a question. Thank you for your help,” flickering his wrist, Pure Vanilla watches as the jail's bars grow denser, thick branches closing all gaps, till no blue eyes can be seen in the dark, replacing it by pure silver. “Enjoy your confinement.”
Although there were no screams, Pure Vanilla's dough tingled all the same.
The healer closed his eyes shut. Whatever dream, reality, whatever this is, he wants to— no. He needs to get out. He remembers it all now too clearly, getting up atop of the spire, hands shoving him down, watching as the ground became closer. Promises and betrayal. Endless solitude.
“Pure Vanilla Cookie?” a rough hand pressed his shoulder. They repeated again, a decibel higher, “Pure Vanilla?”
He squinted, forms taking shape as he sat, “GingerBrave?”
The cookie smiles, scratching his neck as he asks, full of worry, “You're okay? You were talking in your sleep… Sorry to disturb!”
“I'm fine, it was just… a nightmare, that's all.”
Everything's coming back now. Their visit to the Spire of Knowledge, the following days they had to endure, what Pure Vanilla had to pass through to reach enlightenment. And how Shadow Milk Cookie left his domain to crumbles. That didn't felt like the big victory he hoped it would.
“Are you sure?” GingerBrave blinked, offering a small smile, “I'm here if you want to talk.”
“I know, my friend,” Pure Vanilla responded softly, trying to fit gratitude in words incapable of such size, “Thank you.”
GingerBrave tries coaching Pure Vanilla back to bed— they're on an airship, sharing a cabin, taking a long trip back to Crispia. He assures his friend, saying how he just need some fresh air. Seeing Shadow Milk always brought a invasive, claustrophobic feeling to his skin. Always inside that Spire, with corridors that scratched far beyond imagination, doors that led to nowhere... If locking Pure Vanilla up was intended to mirror that feeling, well… Shadow Milk had succeeded.
Pure Vanilla couldn't take another second inside that small, stuffed cabin.
He makes his way to the deck, trying to appreciate the simple hall's decoration, a growing exasperation sinking on his stomach as his feet traveled through long corridors, followed by even longer stairs. Just when he's up there, able to see stars shining, blinking a welcome to his presence, is when he lets go of a breath.
Pure Vanilla had always preferred the sunlight. Watching the sun rise as it accompanied his sheep always brought a warm feeling to his heart. Despite how terrible the day was, the sun would rise again. Although he had his bias, there was no uncertainty in how necessary the night was as well. Moonlight Cookie was his friend after all, her job to carry everyone's dreams is as important as the sunshine that made flowers grow— one must dream of having a garden to attend it.
“Beautiful night, isn't it?” a soft voice jolts him to it's direction, light blue skin makes his stomach drop. Pure Vanilla holds his staff closer, inspecting this person.
Their hair was long, white, tied to a casual ponytail. They held a trail full of cups, just then did Pure Vanilla noticed the ship's uniform. They were probably collecting dishes and noticed Pure Vanilla standing by.
“Yes…” Pure Vanilla answers, tone carrying unease. Their smiling blue eyes were too much like his deceitful half. He couldn't quite understand why Shadow Milk would bother to wear a disguise, not after running off like he did, “It is quite a beautiful.”
They hum, soft and low, “Are you enjoying the trip?”
“Not really,” when they gave him a weird look for his response, Pure Vanilla raised his hands, flapping his arms dismissively, “No— what I meant is, it's not the ship's fault! I… I'm not much of a traveler, at least haven't been lately. Being abroad again, in such circumstances… It's complicated.”
“Oh, hoh,” adjusting the heavy metal trail, they smile, “Afraid of heights?”
Like the wind's cutting through his cheeks again, Pure Vanilla shudders.
“Don't worry. Nothing's gonna happen.”
Pure Vanilla swiftly steps ahead, grabbing the server's shoulders, the plate makes a grazing noise as it dances on the floor, “Do not hurt my friends, Shadow Milk Cookie. This is between you and me.”
They melt to laughter, eyes prickling with tears. Pure Vanilla let's go, observing the simple server's neat hairdo come undone, white hair mostly disappearing to waves of blues, tiny crescents forming on the darker pieces open to eyes, blinking, looking all around, “Wow! You're a terrible actor, Nilly.”
Pure Vanilla steps back, unsure what to say, Shadow Milk Cookie takes his silence as an opening, closing their distance.
“Could it be that that fall traumatized you this much?” he smiles, new features melting to old ones. Pure Vanilla forces himself to keep looking, holding his staff tighter when the jester presses a palm to his chest. He's too close to the edge, the airship's rails being the only thing holding him.
He had fallen a good couple times, gotten injured a thousand more. Being this high was uncomfortable, but not unbearably so. His soul jam trembled, cold air wisps getting inside the warmth of his clothes. Shadow Milk Cookie looked down too, as if feeling the same. Sharp claws circled the light blue soul jam, tapping carefully around it. Pure Vanilla observed the clown's blue eyes turning into even tinier slits. That trembling wasn't coming from him. Pure Vanilla touched the soul jam of deceit.
“What are you…?”
“I'm not afraid of falling, Shadow Milk,” his thumbs caress the darker gem, gently cupping it, “What is making me this worried is you.”
Shadow Milk laughs, low and controlled, “What can I say? I am a beast, aren't I?”
Pure Vanilla pouts, letting go of the gem in favor to hold the man's face.
“I am worried about your well-being, you left injured and in a hurry,” he continues, listing with a stern voice, “You say that you plan to take me out, but you have been spying on me instead.”
“Violence is not my style, you should know that—” he spats, looking away.
Pure Vanilla forces himself further, pressing his forehead to pin Shadow Milk, “I do. That's why I need to know why are you showing me your past.”
“I— What?!” Shadow Milk shrieks, squirming violently. Pure Vanilla lets him go, not expecting this visceral reaction.
“These dreams I've been having… of you. Of the Fount—” a loud growl cuts his phrase.
“Do not mutter this name. I am nothing like this idiotic lie,” taking a composing breath, the jester starts floating, crossing his arms, “Whatever nightmares you've been having, I am not who's responsible.”
Loosening his grip on his poor staff, Pure Vanilla sighs. All the leading moments till his awakening had been bleary pieces of a puzzle he had the answers for all along. If these visions are a piece for something bigger… he can't wait any longer for more. Pure Vanilla starts walking back to his cabin.
Standing in front of the entrance, Pure Vanilla lowers his voice, feeling a shadow by his side, "You can accompany me if you want, but please refrain from bothering these three this soon."
Shadow Milk doesn't say anything. Pure Vanilla opens the door, careful not to make a noise.
GingerBrave's soft snores filled the ambience. Wizard and Strawberry Cookie were sleeping next door, but only the wind was audible in the silent night. Pure Vanilla sat on his bed, taking off the outer layers of his robe, keeping only his white chemise. Shadow Milk's presence was palpable, although he was nowhere to be seen.
Still, Pure Vanilla wishes him a good night.