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The air was quiet in the tent. Tense. They’d been staring at each other for what felt like hours. Honestly, it probably were. He could see how the lights outside had dimmed, from the corner of his eyes, indicating the beginning of the night, and Mystic and Sugar had both fallen asleep a while ago, to replenish their strength.
They didn't though. Both he and him were still wide awake.
Burning Spice sat opposed to him, staring him down from outside the cage. Unmoving, mostly unblinking, and face neutrally cold in a way that he couldn't decipher.
Shadow Milk returned his stare, just as unmoving, just as unblinking, just as cold, from inside the cage. Arms still bound behind his back.
The air was so thick, Shadow Milk was almost sure his staff would get stuck in it, should he try to slice it.
But that was fine. Words cut sharper anyways.
The former beast of deceit, still rather newly titled keeper of honesty, allowed his eyes to fall shut as he scoffed.
The sound wasn't loud, but it crashed into the silence like lightning into trees.
“So”, Shadow Milk raised his gaze again. Slow, as if he had all the time in the world at his disposal. “This is it, huh?” His tone was deceptively light as his head lulled slightly to the side in a faux lazy manor. “You just join the enemy and stab us in the back? And the Republic, no less! Truly, what an unexpected turn of events!” He almost sing songed, teasing in a way that bordered on condescending.
“I always thought you were too much of a ‘freespirit’ for these stuck up pests!” Oh, how he wished he could use his hands for some air quotations! But alas, they were literally tied. “Guess I misjudged you. Maybe you should have been the one to get the ‘Beast Of Deceit’ title after all!”
For his part, Burning Spice stayed quiet. Just the way he had before. But Shadow Milk could see the oh-so-telling, oh-so-familiar narrowing of his eyes that he had seen a million times before!
A grin stretched across his face, sharp and mocking.
“What? Nothing to say? ‘Republic got your tongue, or just your spine?” He was leaning forward now, closer to the bars. Voice sharp with mockery.
Burning Spices brow twitched and Shadow Milk could see the exact moment the Beast Of Destruction’s muscles flexed as he gripped his own hands, neatly folded in front of his chin, tighter.
“Oooh, unless you are quiet because you know that I’m right!” A small snicker left the former deceiver's lips. “Is that it? I mean, I can't blame you! I would be ashamed to admit it, too! But don’t be so glum! At least you can rest assured that your performance out there was truly spectacular!” He continued, lolling his head to the other side as he shrugged his shoulders. “Honestly, I couldn't have done it better myself on my worst days! Who knew you were such a phenomenal actor!” The venom in his words was hidden behind the honeyed layer of his sing-song voice, though it dripped from his eyes nonetheless as he held Burning Spice's gaze. “Maybe ‘Beast Of Deceit’ truly would have suited you better, considering what an utter failure you were as a ‘Protector’!” And just as quickly, honey turned to sulfur as he hissed through teeth bared in a grin and narrowed his own eyes.
A low click of the tongue was the answer he got, and the grin gave way to a self-serving smile as he raveled in the satisfaction of having finally gotten a reaction out of his opponent.
“First off, you yap an awful lot, for someone tied up in a cage.” Burning Spice's voice was low, measured as he rose from the place he had been sitting in since they got here. Shadow Milk just shrugged lazily while the red beast stepped closer to the cage.
“You know me! My voice is my best feature~”
A red hand, strong, slightly calloused from years of wielding all sorts of weapons, reached past the bars. Arms short of touching the metal, but avoiding it with precision as the fingers closed around blue dough, gripping Shadow Milk's chin firmly to redirect his gaze towards the one he called a “friend” not 24 hours ago.
He returned the gaze firmly, calm. They were on eye level like this, with Burning Spice crouched before the locked cage and Shadow Milk sitting high and proud inside of it. He could see the eyebags painted on red dough. Not even Burning Spice's tattoos could hide them at a proximity this close.
The grip around his chin wasn’t hurtful, he was well aware of how strong Burning Spice's grip could be if he wanted to, but it wasn't gentle either. It was neutral. A simple end to a means.
"Second, you got it wrong, jester”
Shadow Milk raised a brow quizzically at those words. Challenging. But before he could utter a word himself, Burning Spice continued.
“I still adhere to my title. I’m just protecting myself now.” His eyes searched Shadow Milks face, for what, he does not know. Features neutrally cold, in a surprisingly convincing way, as he does so.
He has to admit to himself that he finds it almost creepy.
“Maybe you should have done the same.”
A small smirk pulls at Burning Spices features as he rises to his feet again, letting go of his prisoner in the process. Shadow Milk can tell that it doesn't reach his eyes.
“Or maybe”, the traitor spoke again, “you should have learned to be honest to yourself. There is no one out there who will ever love an irredeemable beast.”
Shadow Milk bristled at those words, lips pressed into a firm line as his hair fans out in rage. Previous bravado gone with a snap.
They echoe in his head, all too familiar. Those two, simple, disgusting, words! In a different voice. One hidden behind metal, reverberating with a grudge when they were first hurled at him not too many days ago.
He was nearly tempted to lose himself in the storm of emotions that was set loose by those two words. But he pulled his composure together, just enough, when he noticed that Burning Spice had turned to leave, making his way to the tent's exit.
“Those are some very bold words!” Shadow Milks voice still drips with his irritation, the temptation to use stronger, more choice words lies heavy on his tongue. But he refrains.
“I wonder what your lovers would think, if they could hear you talk like this!” He nearly spits the words at Burning Spice, grin sharp and all teeth.
The reaction is immediate.
As if struck by lightning, the red beast freezes in his steps. Shadow Milk can watch the way his shoulders stiffen and hunch up, before dropping, deep, almost limply. It’s a shame he can't see the others' faces, now that he had turned his back towards the caged jester.
“Suuure, I may not know them tooo well”, he toots, false admission, “but I’m pretty sure goldy locks and bird brain would both be pretty pissed at-”
“I don't have one.” Burning Spice's voice cut him off like a knife, cold and impersonal, and all of Shadow Milks thoughts came to a screeching halt. His irritation, anger, and all the other emotions that had been bubbling inside him gave way to one, overwhelming feeling of confusion as all he could think was ‘What?’.
Very fittingly, his lips uttered exactly what he was thinking, even if it wasn't the most eloquent thing to say out loud.
“What?”
Burning Spices answer came with a cold indifference that didn't suit him at all. It took Shadow Milk a moment to realize it was a front.
“I don't have a ‘lover’. Let alone two. Never had.” There is a somberness hidden behind those words, underneath the false neutrality. And as he speaks, Burning Spice shifts just enough to look over his shoulder, back towards the cage. Yet his eyes stay hidden behind a curtain of messy black strands.
Shadow Milk can’t help but stare for a moment, before he shakes his head rigorously to get his derailed thoughts back on track.
“Wait, wait, wait! Hold on!” The irritation returns, mixing with the still overwhelming confusion as Shadow Milk speaks. And to Burning Spices credit: he actually listens and does not resume walking away.
“Just because I praised your acting earlier, doesn't mean you can just straight up lie to my face! Especially not with such an obvious one!”
“It’s not a lie.” The statement is spoken nearly flat, and Shadow Milk nearly recoils as Burning Spice turned around enough to face him fully as well.
He had seen his eye bags earlier. But this was different. Burning Spice looked tired. Not just on a physical level. It radiated from every speck of his dough, from every strand of his hair. His entire being, the way he stood there past the metal bars, radiated a deep seated, crushing, mental tiredness of a kind that Shadow Milk hadn’t seen on his old companions face in millenia. And no matter how much Burning Spice tried to keep his voice and face neutral, it couldn't hide the sorrow swimming in his eyes, clear to see for everyone who dared to look.
“It’s the truth. It was all a ruse. A charade. They never truly cared. They just kept me around because I was useful.” The former beast took a deep breath, one that shuddered at the edges as his hand clenched and uncurled, before falling limply at his side. The smile on his face was tired, bitter and broken. It made a shudder run down Shadow Milks smile, worse than Burning Spices anger ever did.
“Like I said: no one out there will ever love an irredeemable beast. It took me a while to realize it, too, and some…unwanted ‘help’. But still, it’s the truth.”
Unwanted help?
A growing unease starts to bloom in his stomach. A realisation that’s starting to take shape.
Shadow Milks eyes dart to the other's bare ankle, where an intricate golden chain used to reside. To the bags under golden-red eyes, suddenly looking so deep, so dark, like bruises. Like days and days without sleep. To the haunched shoulders of someone defeated, like something had chipped away at all their insecurities, all their fears, till lies sounded like gospel. A tactic he was all too familiar with.
And he thinks of the dream Pure Vanilla had. Of the intruder that had tried to turn it into a nightmare, after they had gotten Mystic Flours warning, of the creature lurking in the dark.
“No..”, his voice was close to a breathless whisper, and the previous confusion dissipated as realisation solidified and an almost angry sort of shock took hold. “You have been talking to HER?!”
The way Burning Spice cast his gaze away and hunched up his shoulders was all the answer he needed.
“Burning Spice Cookie! You can't be serious! You can't-! This-! You can't listen to that…that…half a cookie! She lies more than ME!” And wasn't that a statement! That the master of truth and lies was bested by some half-baked wanna-be-witch in his own game!
It was a defeat he wasn't too upset to admit to.
Burning Spice didn't respond verbally. But Shadow Milk could see his gaze hardening, shoulders straightening. Like a petulant, broken child, if he had to compare it to anything.
It was a look all too familiar. When cold sorrowful defeat started to molt into hot defiant resolve. It was alarming, in all honesty. He’d seen it before, so, so many years ago…when Herald-
“What did she tell you?” Shadow Milk found himself asking. Voice taking on a more urgent note.
“Burning Spice, tell me what she said to you!”
No response. He wasn't meeting his eyes at all anymore.
His dough prickled uncomfortably, nervously.
“I deserve to know what she told you! You owe me that much, at least!” Guilting.
“And you deserve to know that her words are nothing but insignificant trash!”
Flattery.
Still, silence was the only response.
And then Burning Spice turned to leave.
Shadow Milk stumbled, nearly tripping over, as he hurried to stand up. Something that was, despite his flexibility and agility, made much harder by having his hands tied behind his back.
“Wait! Where are you going?! You can't just leave!” He called out, anger seeping in stronger again as he stepped closer to the bars.
“Burning Spice, tell me what she said! Explain to me what's going on! Come back here! Burning-!” He cut himself off with a sharp yelp as he stepped to close, touched the bars without thinking, and was met with an electric shock that sent him right back onto the ground. There was movement in the cage with him, he could catch it just in the corner of his eyes. He must have woken one of the girls.
But he couldn't care less about that right now. His eyes were still focused on the retreating form of Burning Spice, who hadn’t even faltered in his steps.
“Burning Spice…!” Shadow Milk tried again, his breath coming quicker from the unexpected electric shock, brows furrowed in both worry and angry frustration.
Burning Spice only stopped when he reached the tent's entry. Only shortly. Casting half a glance over his shoulder, distant and unreadable, before looking away again. When he spoke, it wasn't to address the jester in the cage, the faintest smell of spice in the air.
“I’m going to meet up with your mush for brains Consul. Keep an eye on them. And make the jester shut up. I can't stand hearing his grating voice!”
The soldiers that saluted the command were once that Shadow Milk recognized from the ambush earlier. Their eyes and mouths still, and once again, tinted red from the spice storm use.
Burning Spice, apparently satisfied, left without a second glance back. No matter how much Shadow Milk called his name, how much he cursed or hissed or screamed to get the others attention, his voice could not reach his old friend. And it felt all too familiar.