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Shadow Milk Cookie has never quite enjoyed the outdoors. Even as— ahem— a tiny insignificant little fountain thing nobody cares about, the idea of stepping beyond the Spire fills them with a deep, heated sense of dread.
Of course, that particular itty-bitty instinct had been weaned off after half-a-little too many centuries acting like an ant under a fork (one can even say they had to get a bit more hands-on with that particular act— too much improv involved, y’know?). Still there, still lingering, but more.. hm… bearable.
In other words, for those in the audience not quite grasping what they’re putting down: it does little to stand out amongst the ten other thousand conflicting stars dancing around their head. Just another shooting star in the splotches of black and blue and violet, the streak of light it worked so hard to paint devoured by the endless void of mixed ink, to be remembered nevermore. Au revoir, to the field of dead stars you go, just as unmemorable as the rest of them!
You understand what they’re saying, right? Good! Because they aren’t repeating it again.
Anyways… the only way you’d ever be able to tug Shadow Milk Cookie out of the Spire of Deceit is if there just so happened to be a Cookie they desired to crawl on the nerves of. Very easy to annoy, the lot of them. It’s like they don’t even appreciate their attempts to make them turn those frowns upside down! Can you believe that? Shadow Milk Cookie certainly can’t.
There is one particular exception to this unfortunate circumstance, however. A neat little Cookie who truly knows how to appreciate the fine arts… albeit, she has the silly little habit of tearing apart the magician’s curtains.
Dreadful etiquette, they know, utterly blasphemous for a member of the main cast, but considering Shadow Milk Cookie has shown rather blatant favoritism for this Cookie alone (and they’ve never been one to back track after choosing a favorite!), they suppose they can let it slip… this time. Exceptions are a single-use, one-ticket thing!
Anywaaays, back onto that exception. In the deep, dark depths of their spire, Shadow Milk Cookie has been plotting something quite vile, just for her. ‘Tis a horrifying thing, a Cookie could crumble pulling it off! Just the right amount of danger for somecookie like Mystic Flour Cookie, to the very dot. Shadow Milk Cookie had used the blood of an underwater creature their minions had wrangled out and fileted with their own fine hands, just to craft this fine print of an invitation. Personalized to perfection, all it needs is some—
“Your… Sea-sational Ocean Friends! sticker set, my Lord? Right in front of the grand doors.”
Shadow Milk Cookie immediately jolted, teeth snapping shut, a sharp pressure, before a flash of white-hot pain blazed across their tongue. The thick, warm rush of jam follows that familiar, unwelcome sting, the unfortunate Master of Deceit hissing and snarling beneath their own hand. Black ooze melts right off their icing, staining the concrete beneath their feet in growing droplets. At the very least, the pain is as appetizing as it is agonizing.
“DON’T JUST-“ their tongue flops over miserably in their mouth, cutting their yelling short in a rather embarrassing attempt to appear in charge. “Say it out loud… loses the charm…” Shadow Milk Cookie rolls all of their eyes, spinning in their chair before facing their desk again. Their letter has ink stains at the bottom corner. They sigh miserably. “Ugh, whatever. Bring it over here.”
Black Sapphire Cookie has been staring at the package from the very moment it arrived at the Spire’s doors. The name is printed in large, bold letters, Sea-sational Ocean Friends with the Spire’s address written just underneath it. There’s no visible return address, and he had checked— numerous times, because there could be no possible way somecookie would order this without yearning for some kind of humiliation ritual.
It’s not just the contents, but the package itself was a surprise in of itself— rarely does anything dare near the Spire of Deceit, much less crawl close enough to the main doors.
It wasn’t Black Sapphire Cookie’s first thought, because nobody has come across the Spire of Deceit in at least a month (a month since that half-a-penny’s visit… sigh. What a treat that was). Those that bother are his Master’s underlings, who use other preferred methods of entry.
Eternal Sugar Cookie flies through the windows, Burning Spice Cookie breaks down the walls, Mystic Flour Cookie… is Mystic Flour Cookie (Black Sapphire Cookie never knows where she comes from, it’s almost horrifying), and Silent Salt Cookie never visits. Why would he even bother checking the door when there’s nobody who bothers to use it?
Shadow Milk Cookie had merely been insisting he check the door— and by insisting, he meant constant sharp glares and repeated pointing in one direction and increasingly vague riddles he couldn’t be bothered to disassemble at the moment.
He (eventually) caught the hint once his Shadow Milk Cookie threw him down the Spire’s stairs (they’re rather adorable when they put up a fuss… just don’t tell Candy Apple Cookie he said that). The package was accompanied by a cluster of pretty pink feathers, he recognized who they belonged to in seconds. A delightful little treat he can keep in his hair.
Shadow Milk Cookie ripped the package right from Black Sapphire Cookie’s hands— he blinks once, and no weight centers his palm. Shadow Milk Cookie waves their hand towards the door, and doesn’t even give him the grace of waiting for him to leave before mauling the package apart. Spitting the cardboard off to the side, Shadow Milk Cookie holds the multiple sets of sea animal stickers with trembling, revering hands.
Black Sapphire wipes at his collar, his lips pulling back in a tight, trembling smile. “Master Shadow Milk Cookie, my grand, unquestionable Lord…” he begins, pointing towards the sticker set with one finger. “With your permission, may I ask wh-“
The muscles along Shadow Milk Cookie’s neck pop as it turns, their expression unnaturally calm even pointing their gaze at their daring minion. “Asking before I could give you my explicit permission, hm? Tsk tsk tsk. That’s practically rule one for my most ambitious little servant.” The Beast shakes their head, a sigh passing their lips. “Black Sapphire Cookie, I thought you were better than that.”
Black Sapphire Cookie, swallowing thickly, only nods. He doesn’t dare tear his gaze away from his Master, taking slow, careful steps backwards the office door. “Of— of course, our Grand-o Calamity,” he speaks through a wavering smile, beads of sweat collecting at the corner of his brow.
Shadow Milk Cookie hasn’t stopped staring at him, holding that same, dull-eyed stare and downturned little frown. “As your most dutiful servant, that was horribly wrong of me, your Greatness. I have stepped out of line, and I shall take my leave. You know, you’re really charming, Master Shadow Milk Cookie. No Cookie is able to match even a fraction of it. Even sweeter than the finest ambrosia!”
Shadow Milk Cookie clicks their tongue. “Don’t forget— we’re checking our scripts later.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the universe, Master Shadow Milk Cookie.”
The door slams shut behind him. Shadow Milk Cookie lets their gaze burn into the wood, just in case he’s still standing on the other side. When no head pops back in, Shadow Milk Cookie spins their head until facing their desk. The sticker set still rests— untouched, as it should be.
“Annoying little gnats…” it’s spoken in a muttered grumble, just as weak and halfhearted as a certain Cookie they know.
Eternal Sugar Cookie, as they had specifically requested in their order, put a lot of heart into these little designs of random sea creatures— appearing so much more appetizing than whatever strange concoctions she cooks up. Delicious!
A pair of tweezers sits unused at the upper corner of their workspace. Slipping it between two fingers, Shadow Milk Cookie readjusts his monocle, and flips the switch to the overhead light.
The lights flare in an instant, blinding everything in a distinctly yellow light (Shadow Milk Cookie has begun to despise the color yellow). They squint beneath it, their own vision blurring within seconds before he can properly stare at their prize.
Reaching slowly so achingly slowly and carefully, forcing the trembling of their arm to still, Shadow Milk Cookie takes time in peeling off one of the stickers from the sheet. Delicately, almost like its fragile, they lead it to their carefully-written letter, and refuse to blink as they lower it down to the bottom corner.
It’s a painstaking effort, demanding every second of their attention. Even the most minor slip-up can cost their entire dignity for the rest of the decade. The very instant that sticker lays harmlessly on the page, they yank the tweezers away, before pressing the very pad of their finger against the sticker’s surface. Just to make sure there’s no air bubbles, easy enough. Carefully, they drag their finger along the surface, until they’re sure the entire sticker is perfectly placed. Great! Now they’ll just have to repeat the process ten more times.
Ten more times.
Ten more times… ugh. The things Shadow Milk Cookie does to gain that costar’s affections. Obnoxious, really. She’s so lucky they care for her— otherwise, they wouldn’t put this much effort into it at all!
At the very least, she knows to appreciate the small things...
“Your tea, just as you prefer it, Master. Flavorless!”
The porcelain mug is hot in her hands as she takes it from Cloud Haetae Cookie’s tiny little paws, watching in silence as that fluffy little tail of theirs wags back and forth. Steam curls at the mug’s rim, fading into the lightest breeze.
The “tea” is clear, not an ounce of color clouds the contents. If anything, it reflects the material of the mug itself, tinging the liquid with a light, tannish color. Mystic Flour Cookie brings it close to her chest. “…Water, little Shishi. It’s hot water.”
The Haetae flops at her side, almost touching her folded leg. She does not comment on their closeness. “Sorry!” They chirp. Their little canines show with the smile on their face. “Your water, Master.”
The difference matters not, in the end. Regardless of its title, she brings it up to her lips, and lets the scalding soothe her tongue and throat with every careful sip. It has no taste beyond its sting, just the burn. Just as she prefers it.
The Haetae, in a sneaky little act of rebellion, hops onto her lap. Only slightly surprised, Mystic Flour Cookie lifts up her arms, allowing her little guardian to knead their little paws at her covered calves before spinning around, curling contently into her lap. Their added weight tugs at her robes, just enough to be felt. She hardly even bothers. The Haetae sighs, their little chest rising and falling in a brief instant. Their head is held against her thigh.
Mystic Flour Cookie takes another sip. It’s just the tiniest bit warmer, yet still as scalding. Shifting the cup to one palm, she brings down her freed hand, and eases her fingers through the poofy mane framing their head. A gentle rumbling buzzes against the fabric of her robes, vibrating, assembled by the purring of her devoted Guardian.
So much meaningless conversation has passed here. It’s difficult, almost, to untangle all of the hours she’s spent here, in this exact spot, melded together into one large bubble. Perhaps it is a favor of her own, forgetting the memories that sink and blur into the rest, until only a cutting fire is all she can truly remember— smudged with splotches of blue, pink, red, and gray, staining her memory just as much as she stained theirs.
Her fingers are careful as they thread through the Haetae’s mane. Their little purrs are soothing. So much love and joy in such a little creature…
Another sip of water. The heat is tolerable. She’s more distracted by the sunlight washing over her dough. When was it last she experienced such tranquility? She cannot quite remember. Thinking of it, allowing it to linger, it seems lifetimes away. Perhaps it never happened at all.
Such a particular line of thought has led her gaze to wander. First to her left, then to her right. It’s a regular habit of her own, born for a reason she cannot remember— at least not for a time, until this very instant, where a envelope of brilliant blue lays lifeless just a foot away, stamped with a wax of gold.
She can recognize that shade of blue anywhere.
A withering sigh is all she can muster. A natural reaction, crafted with centuries of dealing with the particular Cookie behind this little… gift. Its fur may appear soft, even when crafted with thorns. She knows better than to fall for such a simple trick.
For as much as they like to claim utter and complete tranquility in independence and isolation, they could never quite tear themself away from another. A parasite in nearly every sense of the word, serving to provide little beyond scratching their way beneath the skin of those they claim to hold dear. Mystic Flour Cookie has learned that lesson clearly.
The Haetae has drifted a slumber in her lap— she can hear every exhale. Is there any particular reason for the suddenness? Shadow Milk Cookie has never been one to hide— unless, of course, it results in an ambush. Would they be so bold as to ambush her in her own domain?
The question lingers purposely, sinking into her dough, and bringing with it a vat of curiosity. Would they dare? Her, a being of equal power? Though they definitely had expressed such cruelty in her Muse’s Garden, and still continue to do so, she had never thought…
Mystic Flour Cookie sets the mug side, just far enough for her to rise comfortably. Slicing her hands beneath the Haetae’s body, one hand hooking around their torso, the other gripping at their side. Carefully, so carefully, she lifts them off her lap, and brings them to her chest.
Their body is small, fragile, yet so delightfully warm. Everything is here, directly beneath the sun. It’s easy to imagine a bed in her place— perfect for their size, just the right amount of fluff and bounce to it— before she carefully sets them at the center.
A little scrunch forms between the Haetae’s brows, seeming to miss the warmth that can only radiate from her, before curling tighter around themself. Mystic Flour Cookie peers at them, just for a moment, before redirecting her gaze towards the resting envelope. It hasn’t exploded… yet. Perhaps the jester is saving their amusements until the very moment she touches it.
Hm.
Though the jaws of danger threaten to snap at her at any moment, Mystic Flour Cookie bends down and carefully presses her fingers to the solid blue envelope. Nothing. No touch-activated explosives, then. She brings it closer to her face. The seal has always remained the same, perhaps one of the only things of the Fountain that remains within the shell of that wicked fox. Gold, a rabbit head printed in dried wax. She nears one claw, and cleanly draws a slice along the stamp.
The envelope pops open in an instant, a sudden pop blowing in her ears, immediately followed by the sound of a party popper. Specks of color burst from the envelope, dancing in the slight breeze, before falling limp on the ground. Confetti. Of course. She shouldn’t have expected anything else.
The only outward reaction is the slightest twitch of her lip. Reaching into the envelope, Mystic Flour Cookie presses her fingers against whatever’s within. It’s thin. Slowly easing it out, it’s a letter, the same blueberry-blue Shadow Milk Cookie uses for their writing— unfolding it, it’s heavily decorated with stickers of random sea creatures. She recognizes the hands behind them easily, being her Muse’s own work, handcrafted and polished with dignity and care.
How… oddly peculiar. What use could Shadow Milk Cookie possibly find in an item like this?
The opening is familiar enough. “To the Sunlight of My Dreams”— they have always been particularly stubborn in keeping that title, molding it to whatever form they feel like at the current moment. Even now, after all these countless centuries, they refuse to give her a new one. She is… unquestionably neutral in such a name.
Her eyes loosely scrape along the writing— elegant, curving, engaging with one-too-may loops. It only seems to have grown more showy with every passing decade. At the very least, it is decent to look at. The topic is easy to discern using just a handful of keywords: sand, towel, bathing suit, snacks, and the most distracting one of all, beach. Her lips purse just lightly grazing the selected few.
Such a lowly yet oddly simple desire this Cookie has. Some time with her, spent at one of their own beaches— not the ones beneath the sun, with pale sands and clear blue waters. No, she is much too aware they would never have the pride to show their face beneath the harsher sun. They would never dare to step beneath its radiance unless it were artificial.
What could that snake of a Cookie possibly be plotting?
“No swimsuit for me?”
The disappointment oozing from their voice could paint a canvas, and Mystic Flour Cookie chooses— for the betterment of them both— to let the paint dry.
As she had already anticipated, the beach Shadow Milk Cookie had chosen is no beach. Rather, it is but a mere extension of the Yogurt River of Rebirth— thick, heavy waves of watery yogurt pushing and pulling at the blackened shores, grains of sand sinking beneath the soured mixture.
From a distance, she can already spot the outline of a large towel, spread out on the stretch of sand. Despite the moon winking down at her, several years ahead, Shadow Milk Cookie had stabbed a beach umbrella through the ground, angling it just right to block any sunlight (which there just so happens to be none of). A makeshift cooler sits at the edge of the towel.
“I do not own any,” is what she uses to defend herself. “You cannot expect me to wear one if I do not have one.”
Shadow Milk Cookie, horrible brat they are, immediately rolls their head back, releasing the heaviest, most depressed (and dramatic) sigh they could ever possibly muster in their entire career. Wobbling on their face is the most pathetic pout she has ever seen, crafted to the tiniest degree to tug any semblance of sympathy inside her heart. And for this face— ever-shifting, sinister, and yet still so beautiful— she no longer holds any pity for, when it is built upon deception.
“Just say you hate me, Misty,” they pout and mutter, arms folded over their chest. How many times has she experienced this right before her very eyes? “You’re really gonna let me get in the water all by myself? Psh. How selfish.”
All it takes is one minor scan to discover the bodysuit— tight and snug, glossy, shifting around the length of their limbs at even the tiniest movement— is made of a specific type of fabric… a type of fabric not meant to be soaked in anything other than soda water, much less meant for swimming in yogurt.
“That is not a swimsuit, either,” she comments dryly. Shadow Milk Cookie, though they roll their eyes and scoff, moves their hands. They come to encircle hers, insistently tugging her over to the bare towel. She does little to resist. “More useful as an underdress. If I were to actually bring a swimsuit, only I would be the one swimming.” She tilts her head the other way. “Is there something you wish to tell me, Shadow Milk Cookie?”
The Jester clicks their tongue, a light grit to their tone. “Ohhh, nothing at all, nothing at all!” Shadow Milk Cookie gives her a little twirl before releasing her hand, that pathetic pout of theirs shifting into that familiar grin. How effortlessly that must be. “Can you blame a poor sinner for anticipating a bit? Sheesh.”
Mystic Flour Cookie hums. “I am not known for swimsuits…” her voice is much too low for her own preferences. She can tell they heard her, telling from the little scrunch between their brows. “Perhaps you were anticipating a bit too much.”
“Only when it comes to you.” Shadow Milk Cookie’s arm swings towards the towel, wiggling their brows. “Votre place, ma dame.”
Mystic Flour Cookie, though she sighs, does not resist the invitation. She kneels at the center of the towel; though the towel by itself is soft, the ground beneath it is uneven and rough. Unpleasant, but she is never one to complain.
Such a position offers her a grand view of the yogurt ocean— the inky black sky, blue eyes blinking down at her, at the same exact time as the creator themself. The waves bubble with every lap, white froth crackling over the grains of sands. “Charming. Perhaps too charming for a Cookie like you.”
“Dazzling for the night, isn’t it?” Shadow Milk Cookie flops on their stomach right at her side, cheek resting on their palm. Their legs lift and kick at the air, the bells at the tips of their shoes jingling with every cheery movement. “Just you and I, beneath the stars… listening to the ocean waves… makes you wanna-“
“I was hinting at deception, Shadow Milk Cookie,” Mystic Flour Cookie interrupts dryly.
Shadow Milk Cookie sticks out their tongue. It’s nearly amusing. “Oh, light of my life, why would I deceive you?” Pushing themself off the soft towel, they lean closer to her, consuming the bottom corner of her vision. Mystic Flour Cookie does not turn her head. “You know I wouldn’t, hm. You’re my favorite co-star!”
“You have a favorite toy,” Mystic Flour Cookie carefully reminds them, one finger tapping Shadow Milk Cookie’s nose. It squeaks under the slightest touch, and is successful in drawing them away. “And you treat him terribly. The amount of times you have lied to his face is endless.”
“Come on now,” Shadow Milk Cookie rolls onto their back, wiggling their fingers in Mystic Flour Cookie’s direction. She complies, reaching to slip their hands together. “That little half-penny? Oh, PLEASE! He’ll believe anything I say if there’s enough sincerity in my voice.” Their tongue flops out from between their teeth, limp. “Like taking candy from a baby, really. Certainly easier than dragging you out of the Padoga.”
“Oh, do not push it.” Mystic Flour Cookie waves her hand. Instantly, Shadow Milk Cookie pops open the cooler, and takes out a water bottle. She takes it gratefully. “If you are so desperate to spend time with me, why not stay over at the Pagoda?”
“Uhhhh…” Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes drift off to the side. Mystic Flour Cookie stares blankly at her water bottle with both hands already occupied. Something spawns from her side— inky, writhing ooze, gargling as it nears her, before popping open the cap. It disappears within seconds. “Frightening. Awfully frightening. What if I reach the gates and those four kings of yours bash my head in?”
Mystic Flour Cookie brings the bottle to her mouth. The soda water is cool, almost downright icy, biting its way down her throat. “Not in their plans.”
“Not yet.”
“Hm.”
Meaningless conversation eats away at the silence between them, one topic untangling in favor of another. Shadow Milk Cookie eventually unfurled their most devious trick: a full plate of chicken— a deep red, with light charring on the skin. Tandoori chicken, no doubt from Burning Spice Cookie’s own kitchen— next to a full batch of cupcakes, fresh from Eternal Sugar Cookie’s Garden. The icing is a mix of yellows and whites— some of them decorated with glossy chocolate pearls, others with small gummies.
There also appears to be a container full of fried octopus. She vaguely remembers them having such a conversation— Shadow Milk Cookie confessed to desiring to try some after eating an entire live squid, and Mystic Flour Cookie had partially agreed in that curiosity. Not particularly because she truly desired to, but because Shadow Milk Cookie kept glancing at her every five seconds after an especially targeted comment of “spreading your horizons”. She supposes she’ll have to indulge.
Shadow Milk Cookie even had plates prepared for them. Humming to themself, they grab a comically large knife from within that same cooler, cutting even slices with one hand (somehow) before setting each piece in two different plates. “Is this what you needed to lure me away for?” Mystic Flour Cookie asks once the plate is set right beside her.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Shadow Milk Cookie shrugs their shoulders. Their fingers loosen around hers, reaching into the cooler again, pulling out a bundle of utensils. “Take your spin.”
Seeing no possible way out of this without a fox whining and crying at her feet, Mystic Flour Cookie takes the plate. She adds two cupcakes and sets them to the side.
It tastes decent enough… she believes so, at the very least. She hasn’t tried much to truly judge. Shadow Milk Cookie seems terribly pleased at her side, making certain noises with every bite. The meat has a smoky bite to it, heavily savory, and a light burn that stings her tongue. She’s merely surprised it doesn’t burn more.
“Can you believe Burning Spice Cookie didn’t want to cook for us?” Shadow Milk Cookie huffs, before chomping down on the leg and ripping off a chunk of meat. They swallow without chewing. “Said ‘You hold no appreciation for the art of culinary. Return to me when you finally season an egg.’ Bleh!” They shake their head, hissing distastefully. “Can you believe it? Me? Uncultured?”
Mystic Flour Cookie swallows her bite of meat, covering her mouth with her sleeve. “I can believe it.”
Shadow Milk Cookie jumps from their spot. “Hey!” They snarl without teeth. “I can cook! I made escargot and oysters and lasagna just this week alone! My minions said they loved them.”
A tiny smile creases her face, hidden behind her sleeve. “And you’re sure they were not utilizing your lessons to the fullest?”
Shadow Milk Cookie immediately scoffs. “You eat my food too. You don’t say it’s bad.”
Mystic Flour Cookie takes another bite before voicing her own response, chewing thoughtfully. “Not particularly willingly.”
“And still you keep allowing me to do it.” Shadow Milk Cookie taps their chin, humming. “Wow, how curious. Does you wonders.”
“You are truly fortunate that I enjoy your company.”
They roll their eyes. “Don’t I know it.”
All of the food vanishes by the hour. She feels awfully full, but does not voice any particular complaints.
By now Shadow Milk Cookie has claimed her lap. Their head rests on her thighs, a rigid iciness buzzing through her dough. Her fingers run mindlessly through their strands of icing, the strange texture proving to be nothing against her. An odd mix of something wet, or simply moist, separating with ease between her fingers, but still rigid and solid.
Something keeps buzzing against her thigh. Rather strongly, in fact. If she strains her ears just enough, she can hear a distinct, constant rumbling, coming from the Cookie resting their head on her lap.
The conversation has long since died out, the silence only occupied by the sound of the waves lapping at the shore. Some of the eyes seep into the black ink up high, just for more to break through the surface, every single one blinking down at her. Mystic Flour Cookie can only describe it as curious animals peering at their item of interest, desiring to move closer but holding back out of a certain fear.
“You know what we could do, Misty?” Shadow Milk Cookie’s voice is heavy, downright groggy. Perhaps it’s her own body warmth.
Mystic Flour Cookie does not look away from the sky. “Hm?”
Shadow Milk Cookie shifts, and Mystic Flour Cookie pulls her fingers out of their hair before they fully sit up. Their jaws stretch in a wide yawn, stretching farther than any regular Cookie’s would. “We should build a spire here.”
Mystic Flour Cookie raises a brow. “A sandcastle, you mean?”
Shadow Milk Cookie shrugs their shoulders. They slump against her, resting their cheek on her shoulder, and she rested hers on the top of their head. “Nah,” they grin. “I mean a spire. A reeeaaalllyyy big one…” their hand waves across the sky. “…big enough to reach the heavens! Just with sand and bits. There’s a Cookie up there, you know. Staring down at us.”
She ignores the last portion of their words. “You dream large for such a small Cookie,” Mystic Flour Cookie comments.
Shadow Milk Cookie immediately huffs. “Puh-lease! You’re shorter than me.”
“Mm.” Mystic Flour Cookie smiles. “Perhaps in height...”
Shadow Milk Cookie narrows their gaze. “And what, exactly, are you trying to imply here, hm?”
Mystic Flour Cookie keeps her expression neutral, though the smile sticks stubbornly to her face. “Nothing in particular.”
“Watch that pretty mouth, Misty…” Shadow Milk Cookie lifts their head from her shoulder, one hand pawing at her sleeve. Their face leans dangerously close to hers, icy breath brushing against her lips. “You never know what I might do with it.”
The line is embarrassing. No normal Cookie would fall for such an awful stretch of words, and Mystic Flour Cookie normally wouldn’t. Unfortunately, the line came from the very Cookie she would give up her life powder for.
“Oh,” Mystic Flour Cookie covers Shadow Milk Cookie’s mouth the very instant that tongue flicks between their lips, pushing their face away. The Cookie huffs behind her hand. “Be quiet. You are awfully unpoetic.”
The edges of Shadow Milk Cookie’s lips poke out from the very ends of her hand. “And you love it.”
“And what if I do?”
They succeed in convincing her to build a sandcastle together. Somehow… she doesn’t know how, exactly. She blinked once, and suddenly, they were off the towel, sitting closer to the yogurt shore.
“We do not have any tools,” Mystic Flour Cookie says.
“We don’t need ‘em.” Shadow Milk Cookie scoops a handful of yogurt water as it reaches for them, pouring it onto the mound of black sand they’ve already collected. They pat the mound, already beginning to mold it into the proper shape. “Just our puuurre determination for the biggest Spire you’ve ever feasted your eyes upon!”
Mystic Flour Cookie hums. “If you say so.”
Shadow Milk Cookie always has a specific look to them when they’re focused. The slight crease between their brows, their tongue stuck to the side of their lip, their gaze intense with every pat and rub. She isn’t quite sure what it is, exactly, that pins her gaze to their face… yet still she cannot look away, watching in silence, untouching, as Shadow Milk Cookie does all the work by themself.
The Cookie doesn’t seem to mind. Perhaps they don’t notice her lack of participation at all (she doesn’t question that, either). The base is already molded, a thick block of wet sand Shadow Milk Cookie grows intent on carving to resemble a rising mountain base.
Occasionally they’d ask for a scoopful of yogurt water, and Mystic Flour Cookie would comply, slipping her hands beneath the rippling surface before letting it soak into the growing mound. Shadow Milk Cookie smacks more sand onto it.
Her attention eventually moves to their lips. Thin things, stretching to the very edges of their face. Their mouth is an oddly shaped thing, almost akin to that of a snake’s, their upper lip pulled up just enough to expose the tiniest hint of pearly-white fangs. Her eyes linger on that particular detail, watching the slightest shift of their lips with every tiny movement.
Shadow Milk Cookie comes to notice her lack of participation beyond what they demand of her, and quickly begins to grumble. “Must I do this all by myself?” They ask, that childish yet unfortunately adorable pout developing on their face within seconds. “I put sooooo much effort into this whole shagig, and I’m the only one who’s having any-“
They’re silenced in an instant. All it takes is an effortless treat, a swift press of lips against lips that lasts only a second at most. A light peck, really, just enough to let the taste of sweet milk mixing with a light bitterness linger on her own, and for her to fully register the slight roughness of their lips. It doesn’t just succeed in shutting them up, however— their faces flushes into a yellow, a delightful shade of gold dusting their cheeks. Their mouth grows wobbly, quivering in a desperate attempt to form words.
Mystic Flour Cookie, on the other hand, is entirely unaffected by the stunt she had pulled. She shrugs her shoulders. “You were… decent enough, I suppose.”
Shadow Milk Cookie opens their mouth, and the only thing they’re able to properly muster is a croaky, dull noise. They immediately snap it shut. Their arm snaps upwards, rubbing intently at their face, as if that could wipe the heat off their cheeks. “Ughh…” they groan. “What was that for? Compensation for doing all the hard work?”
Mystic Flour Cookie turns her head the other way, towards their shared towel and beach umbrella. The umbrella droops pathetically to one side, threatening to pop out and fall to the side. Just a moment to gain her bearings. She takes a long, deep breath. “Such a foolish reason, I’m afraid,” she says. Shadow Milk Cookie quirks up a brow. “I merely… desired to kiss you.”
Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes linger purposefully on her dough— she can feel it, warm against the back of her neck. It isn’t an uncomfortable type of warmth, exactly. It’s something more soothing.
“…Ohhhh.” Their voice oozes with that typical arrogance of theirs, melting nicely with the smugness set right next to it. She can draw the smirk on their face without looking— the perfect angle of their lips, how far it would stretch on their face. “Well, well, well~ my Mystic Flour Cookie desiring something for herself?”
She nods simply, having nothing to add beyond a simple “Mm”.
Shadow Milk Cookie puffs out their chest, practically beaming with that same arrogance. Their face leans closer, icy hand brushing against hers. “Well, don’t let me stop you then! My lips have been feeling awfully lonely lately…”
Mystic Flour Cookie immediately pushes them backwards, a heavy sigh through her brushing her upper lip. “Don’t push it, Shadow Milk Cookie.”
“Awww, c’mon!” Shadow Milk Cookie kneads their hands on her thigh, smacking their lips together before mounting their chin on her shoulder. “I think I deserve another. And another. And another. And-“
Mystic Flour Cookie covers her mouth with her sleeve, biting back a certain laugh as she refuses to look at her fellow Beast. “Rather greedy, aren’t you?”
“Kisses from you?” Shadow Milk Cookie lays a light kiss on her shoulder, cold and moist through the fabric covering it. Mystic Flour Cookie shivers. “Like the finest treasure. Why wouldn’t a sly little fox want to hoard it?”
“Particular choice of words.” Mystic Flour Cookie finally turns her head. Shadow Milk Cookie is staring up at her, little stars glinting in those mismatched eyes of theirs, pushing up their bottom lip in a wobbling pout. The moment they become aware of her stare, they push their lip further out, bulging out their eyes more until they’re large and pitiful. Perhaps it is weakness, but something melts inside her. She sighs heavily, “…Very well. If that is your wish.”
Shadow Milk Cookie practically chirps as she cups their cheeks, pulling their head off her shoulder. They beam as Mystic Flour Cookie leans in, her lips inching closer to their own, just close enough for their breaths to brush against one another—
Just for Mystic Flour Cookie to diverge her path at the very last second, pressing her lips to Shadow Milk Cookie’s cheek instead. Their eyes snap open in an instant, the notable expression of complete and utter betrayal marring their face. “Hey!”
Mystic Flour Cookie tilts her head curiously, pulling her hands away. “Is that not what you wanted?”
Shadow Milk Cookie points to their lips. “Uhhh, no?! Target audience RIGHT HERE!”
“Ohh,” Mystic Flour Cookie leans back in, purposefully directing towards Shadow Milk Cookie’s lips. It’s only until the very last inch that she suddenly redirects her objective, and presses a kiss to their other cheek. Shadow Milk Cookie immediately hisses. “Is that what you meant?”
“NO! NOT AT ALL!”
“Specify, then.”
“Look at where I’m pointing right now.”
Mystic Flour Cookie keeps her eyes stuck to Shadow Milk Cookie’s lips, the exact spot they’re pointing at. “…Your face.”
The tendrils of Shadow Milk Cookie’s hair spike up in an instant, a cobra flaring up their hood. “YOU-“
A light peck to their forehead silences them, and strikes another ball of rage at the bottom of their stomach. Shadow Milk Cookie practically shakes like a rabid dog, droplets of black icing dripping from the tips of their hair and soaking into the sands below.
Mystic Flour Cookie’s lips curve to a smile so innocent, so gentle and sweet the unfortunate Master of Deceit feels themself falter in but a mere second. “Is that right?”
Shadow Milk Cookie gargles over their own words, looking around for a hidden camera they had somehow neglected to notice. When nothing obvious pops out, they return their glare to the Cookie sitting before them. “NO!”
She shrugs meaninglessly. “I know not what you desire, then. If you could be so helpful-“
Cold, soggy fingers snap around her collar, seconds before she’s violently tugged forwards. Cold lips practically smack into hers, harsh and— though she would never admit it out loud— obviously… inexperienced. It’s a clumsy, fickle thing, all teeth and nerves. Regardless, the first touch of their mouth on hers sent a ripple through her chest; slow, warm, and alarmingly gentle, so unlike the sheer insistence of their desire.
Their hand claims her cheek, cupping it gently, while her hands come to rest on their waist. The very moment they have her, their touch softens, the pressure more bearable.
Her mouth is full of them— that rather bitter taste, mixing with the taste of sweetened milk. The taste of it doesn’t negate the awkwardness of it all; their noses kept bumping, the timing off… and still, it was somehow tender, the effort behind it clear Shadow Milk Cookie’s attempting to memorize every bit of her.
She was the one to pull away first, and they chased after her. She pressed a finger to their mouth, and Shadow Milk Cookie immediately pulled back. “Enough,” she says. Though they huff, Shadow Milk Cookie ultimately complies.
The Beasts do not need to breathe. Unlike mortal Cookies, the base necessitates of the Cookie body are avoidable, only necessary for extra strength. If she desires to avoid sleeping for a century, she is fully capable, it will merely come at the cost of more energy. She has grown greatly familiar with that fact. Yet, for some peculiar oddity, she feels the need to fill her lungs with the salt-crusted air. The feeling is pleasant, soothing the sudden aching in her ribs. It feels easier to handle, than letting them be crushed.
“Satisfied now?” She asks, voice soft.
“No.” Their voice is stronger than hers. Her hands rests on her lap, and they move to take them both, slipping their fingers between hers. “There. Now I’m satisfied.”
She squeezes their hands lightly. “Greedy thing…”
“Aww,” Shadow Milk Cookie grins, pearly whites glinting in the sunlight. Readjusting their grip on one of her hands, they bring it up to their mouth, and press a light kiss to her knuckles. “If I were greedy, I would be kissing every inch of your body until I’ve memorized even the smallest dip.”
Mystic Flour Cookie musters a tiny, measured smile. “As charming as ever, Shadow Milk Cookie.”
Shadow Milk Cookie grins back at her. Looking beyond their face, Mystic Flour Cookie notices all the hearts blooming in their extra eyes. She doesn’t point it out, for doing so would make them disappear. “I try to be.”
The Spire is made smaller than Shadow Milk Cookie had truly desired, but it eventually proved to be too difficult to focus on. Every second was just another distraction, another light peck shared between them, and another instance of Shadow Milk Cookie chasing after her.
At the very least, they managed to get the mountain base done… even if it ends up crumbling only an hour after they completed it. And still, even it lasted only a mere breath in the face of eternity, it was rewarded with yet another kiss, weighing more than any silly sandcastle ever could.