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Pom Pom Dough could imagine a lot of bad things happening to Butter Roll right about now.
Their creator, the one who brought her into this miserable world in this miserable, crumbly body, surrounded by miserable cookies doing miserable things for a miserable leader. She hated him for that, and she hated that he’d already done that twice before with her siblings.
He could trip up, fall face first into his own whisk and have it be shredded up into an unrecognizable sludge. Or maybe she could stab him a few times, or blow him up with her mind. Really, if she could find herself a journal, she’d have it chock full of creative murder methods in under a week.
If she knew how to write anyway. No one cared enough to teach even that to the trio.
Because, just like Butter Roll had said right to her face after re-attaching a broken arm,
“Now, don’t think about that stuff. We can’t afford to waste resources on failed experiments, do we?” and he flashed that stupid smile of his at her before patting her on the head.
Hmm, new idea, rip off his arm and shove it down his throat. That would be poetic, or however that went.
But all she could do was grumble to herself, shove past researchers who viewed her lower than a rat, and stomp off to her quarters to yell and scream as much as she wanted.
She trudged through the grimy halls, utterly flooded with rotting dough that everyone had stopped caring with cleaning up. Poorly lit, dotted with puddles of water leaking from rusted pipes and covered in enough dust and cobwebs to give anyone allergies.
“ACHOO!!” Like her. Because of course she needed one more problem.
She’d heard at one point while eavesdropping on the researchers that the outside world, back in the mainland of Crispia, had fresh air that they deeply missed being around. That the buildings were held to high standards of cleanliness, and fresh sunlight to warm the dough. Stuff that would likely be destroyed once Dark Enchantress put her plan in motion.
Maybe if things went well she and her siblings would be able to enjoy that fresh air for themselves, even if just for a moment?
She kicked aside a blob of molding dough. Yeah, that was unlikely.
At least she had her bed. With the migraine building up and the ache in her dough around the recently re-attached arm, a nap sounded pretty good about now.
As she approached the door to the dough siblings’ quarters, though, something caught her eye. She knew that Venom Dough and Mold Dough had been sent out on a mission earlier in the morning (something the broken arm situation had kept her from joining in), and they had definitely locked the door behind them before they left. The three of them held the only keys to that room. So why was it opened?
The girl grumbled, entering the room to investigate. Whoever was responsible was not going to be leaving the room alive.
There wasn’t anyone inside, however. The former prison cell turned bedroom had little more than three mattresses and the occasional potted plant Mold Dough cared for (and never bothered explaining where they were found). It was the closest thing the three had to home.
But the one thing off about the room was what sat by the beds. A tea kettle and three tea cups, steam flowing out of the former.
A sniff from the air told her everything. Matcha tea.
Only one cookie had the resources to make this tea. And judging by how it got here, was also sneaky enough to travel the castle undetected. Matcha Cookie.
That one was very strange. She laughed a lot, usually when it was unwarranted, and liked to skulk around the lab to glare at Butter Roll Cookie from afar, or simply to try and make herself useful. She and her siblings had never really talked to her. In fact, it felt almost like she was avoiding them. Always disappearing whenever any of them got even a little close.
Pom Pom Dough didn’t know what to think of her, but from the stories she’d heard, she was a lot like them. An experiment. A failure.
The girl sat down on her bed, pouring herself a cup before leaving it to cool. And when she drank the bitter yet refreshing tea, she felt her aches and pains fade away. Not gone, never gone, but dulled to something more manageable.
It would be nice to get to know her, she thought. Maybe they could get along?