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The conditions were not exactly ideal.
Venom Dough knew they weren’t well versed on survival. Or, better, well-versed in survival outside of a restricted space. Because when it came to working under Dark Enchantress and Butter Roll, they always knew exactly what to say and do. Weeks of abuse shape one to thrive in an environment.
But Crispia wasn’t like the Laboratorium. There weren’t any orders to follow that gave them a cruel but stable guidance. No routines to adhere to and get accustomed to, even if they were revolting and evil.
Just a whole lot of uncertainty in the sea of unknown, that one born from a very twisted mistake couldn't so easily come to terms with.
Venom Dough had always dreamed of what was beyond the misty, sickening fog that surrounded their place of birth. Not out of a belief of truly deserving to be free (their self-esteem was as low as anyone’s guess), but curiosity. Curiosity of the world the others talked about, like the one in a black hood and with the scythe. That Cookie always spoke too much for their taste, but sometimes they’d talk about green hills and blue skies.
And Venom Dough had always been captivated by the thought that there might have been something beyond their sad reality. But had never dared to voice their wonder.
Pom-Pom Dough had tried it once, ever the transgressive one. Her screams of pain caused by what Butter Roll defined as “reforming” had shut all of them up for good. He had made sure to be close enough for them and Mold Dough to hear.
Venom Dough wanted to slam his head on a wall until not even crumbs were left of it.
Alas, they probably would never get the chance to return the favour in kindness for everything he had put them and their siblings through. Perhaps it was better that way. It was either quenching their thirst for revenge or escaping.
The latter had been intriguing at first, but now that a hungry and hurting Pom-Pom Dough was curled up on their lap like one of their General’s Cake Hounds, it didn't feel as rewarding anymore. Now that their brother was sitting beside them, staring at the horizon and starving more than he ever had, the satisfaction turned into regret.
At least in the Laboratorium they had food. If you could even call it food, that gray, tasteless, colorless slime they’d been given as rations. It satiated them, though. Now not even food was a guarantee.
Had Venom Dough failed them? They had promised solace for abandoning their duty and orders. And instead, they were met with even more questions and pain.
Pain; that was all they had ever known. And probably would know for the rest of their unfair lives. Even when away from Dark Enchantress’ clutches, they were still suffering from the consequences of her actions. There just was no end to it.
Where would mistakes like them ever belong?
“You’re angry.” Mold Dough stated flatly, his large figure not moving an inch. Venom Dough hesitated, running a gentle, bandaged hand through their little sister’s hair, careful not to touch the spores so as not to cause her pain.
“I’m not.” Venom Dough lied, as they always did when it came down to protecting their siblings from their own problems. Struggles and pain were to be hidden - that had been drilled into their cranium since day one.
“That is not the truth.” He replied, head tilting slightly on the side, giving him a better look at his sibling.
“How can you tell?” Venom Dough decided to ask, challenging him. They had a feeling they knew the answer already, but they’d take anything to drift their mind away from those awful thoughts.
Mold Dough didn’t answer immediately, but ultimately decided to humor their sibling’s obvious question.
“Your Poison Cores shape weirdly when you feel strongly.”
Venom Dough eyed their cores and noticed Mold Dough’s statement was true. They knew it was a thing that happened with them. Pom-Pom Dough had a similar thing, with her spores trembling violently in moments of anger.
Side effects of being vessels of such a strong power.
“Don’t worry about me.” Venom Dough reassured, burying their feelings deep within their soul out of habit. “I am alright. You should get some rest. We need to find something to eat tomorrow, lest you want to starve.”
“You speak as if my stomach’s more important than you.”
“You assume wrongly, then.”
The two did not exchange a word for a while. Venom Dough noticed Mold Dough giving them some looks eventually, but he never actually addressed them following their last sentence.
Perhaps they had been too harsh. They knew their brother only meant to help them, and they would be nothing more than a liar if they convinced themselves they were fine. Things had never truly been fine. Better, at most.
The first step towards freedom had been taken already after defying their creator, but the hardest part had yet to come. Learn to live like other cookies - not lesser beings, mistakes. But it wasn’t that simple.
They certainly could not go to any kingdom and expect to be welcomed - it was already a miracle they hadn’t been caught while sneaking on one of the boats of the cookie army opposing Dark Enchantress.
In smaller, isolated villages, they’d all be seen as freaks or even worse, criminals. Cookies with chains and mold and spores around them, with weird eyes, with weird writing inscribed on their dough. Who would ever welcome them?
Venom Dough’s singular eye fell onto their arm. “Endt”.
They did not know Dragontongue - only how to use it to elevate themselves to a power superior to that of common cookies, to avoid their own suffering and the one of their own siblings, especially. Performance meant comfort. Failure meant torture.
But they did know what the writing inscribed on their arm meant. “Death”. Because Venom Dough was a weapon. Not a cookie.
And that is exactly why they were destined to be seen as no more than a freak.
“Hmmgh...” A muffled cry escaped the lips of the young Pom-Pom Dough Cookie, as they slightly trembled on Venom Dough’s lap. Both their attention and Mold Dough’s was immediately directed to their sibling.
Mold Dough moved a strand of spored hair out of the way. There were still cracks on the forehead marked with Dragontongue.
“She still hasn’t healed. The cracks haven't mended...” Mold Dough stated flatly, hiding the underlying sorrow of his discovery.
Venom Dough gently caressed her cheek with their bandaged hand in response, careful not to place their cold shackles on her face in the process. A poor attempt at solace.
“I know.” They simply replied, unsure of what to add.
“Dark Enchantress’ magic made everything so much easier, after all. Her healing process is much slower without her relie-” A true observation, but one that made Venom Dough snap their head in his direction, their singular eye scrunched in unconcealed fury.
“Never ever say that. That hag, that bastard - that monster cared not for our well-being. We were tools - toys for her to break and rebuild anew over and over again, all in the name of her twisted design. It was not relief. Do not call it relief. It means you let her win.”
“You’re quite snappy tonight.”
Venom Dough sighed and resumed gently caressing their little sister, once more denying Mold Dough of an answer they feared would let too much transpire about their emotional state.
Things hadn’t been the same between them ever since they had left, and they knew. They knew all too well that they were constantly hiding from their own siblings, but they had convinced themselves it was for their own good.
Their own suffering shouldn’t be a weight for them to deal with as well. There was no need to add more fuel to the fire raging inside each of them. But such resolve also came with the side effect of disrespecting their vow.
One they had made months before, after a remarkably horrible day spent with Butter Roll Cookie. “Simple experiments to monitor the performance of the three”, he had said.
Venom Dough only remembered scalpels, saws and jam.
They were all shaken after that visit with the doctor. Pom-Pom Dough especially - her tarnished, terrified expression, her dull eyes, and her hollow movements still haunted Venom Dough’s mind. She was in a mental state no kid her age should have ever been in.
Venom Dough had never seen a child in their life, but damn them if they didn’t have the common sense to realize what she had been through was wrong on so many levels. What they all, had been through.
That day, General Red Velvet called training off after seeing their condition. He looked very displeased, that much they remembered. He was probably the only one in that rotten fortress who considered them, at the very least, other living beings.
In the cold, restricted space of their cell, where the smell of death and rot coming from the bowls being used to create a better version of the trio pierced through their noses and made them gag up what little they’d had for lunch, they made a promise - a promise to never keep secrets from each other. To not carry burdens alone, but to share them and make them more tolerable.
It was a vow, a sibling's vow. One that Venom Dough did not always adhere to. Neither did Mold Dough, sometimes, but he was much easier to read.
Weakness and emotions were two sicknesses that the Psionic Cookie worked really hard to shed away from their fragile dough and soul. They were leverage that could be used to give Dark Enchantress or Butter Roll an excuse to get more out of them. More than they could reasonably take.
Venom Dough inevitably became a good liar, eventually. And a feeling-less vessel that couldn’t be pushed to do anything that wasn’t the bare necessary. It lessened the punishments and the pain for everyone. It was a price they had been willing to pay.
Things would be okay. Venom Dough would work harder the following day to get a meal, and their siblings would be okay. It was going to be okay. They were going to be okay.
“Why do you do this to yourself?” Mold Dough inquired once more, this time not dropping his questions after a single glare from Venom Dough like before.
A glare from Venom Dough was an order - an order to walk away and give some space. Yet, Mold Dough couldn’t shake off the feeling that this time, the gloomy look had been more of a plea than a command.
Cornered, Venom Dough tried their best to isolate themselves, hoping that Mold Dough wouldn’t continue the questioning.
“I already suggested you go to sleep,” they tried to dodge. “Tomorrow is going to be a-”
“You need to stop hiding. I am not a fool, Ven.”
That shut Venom Dough up. They looked to the side, avoiding Mold Dough’s eye so as not to risk slipping up and saying too much.
Mold Dough had grown less complacent, over time...it was both a good thing and a bad thing. Because it meant Venom Dough would have to open up. And they just didn’t know how to do so.
How do you do it? How do you let go of all the hurting when your entire life doing so has come with the risk of seeing the two you love the most snatched away from you? The two that gave a slight meaning to your miserable existence and made it more enjoyable, even if marginally?
How do you speak your mind when it has always been a cause of pain and suffering?
Maybe, Venom Dough realized, they weren't as strong as they made themselves out to be. Just a really good jester in an abhorrent circus.
“You must be starving.” They eventually settled for a simple question, or rather, a statement with an obvious answer.
“Yes.” Mold Dough admitted as expected by them, groaning. “But I can handle it. I’ve handled worse. You, however...”
“Ever the fortress...see, we’re both on the same boat-”
“Now, you’re just clinging to my statements to get me to give up as Dark Enchantress would. Don't do that.”
Venom Dough froze. That accusation was...heavy.
The tension in the air was palpable. An air that both of them had enjoyed at some point - refreshing from the usual, unbearable stench they were accustomed to. Now it felt as unbearable, if not worse.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Mold Dough relented, kindly grabbing Venom Dough’s face with his big hand and forcing them to look at him. “I know...I know you are the eldest. And just like me, you want to make it easier for me and Pom to live by another day. But not like this Ven.”
“Since when are you so thoughtful?” Venom Dough questioned, though with much less bite in their voice. Mold Dough gave them one small, subtle smile - the kind of smile that, coming from someone as strong as him, meant a whole lot more than any other smile.
“Since you granted my desire to live somewhere less bleak with you two.”
Venom Dough’s lips trembled at the sight of his unspoiled care, something that even after so much time together, they still hadn’t gotten accustomed to. It was easier to bear insults and pain - displays of kindness were a rare thing they weren’t allowed to enjoy.
But there wasn’t anyone above them to tell them how they should behave now, was there?
“I’m...I’m sorry you’re hurting. I’m sorry she’s in pain. I...I am trying, I swear.”
“I know.” Mold Dough wasn’t one of many words, letting actions speak louder. He leaned Venom Dough’s head on his shoulder, his long, tangled hair acting as a sort of pillow for the elder sibling. “I know you are, Ven.”
Venom Dough didn’t move for what felt like an eternity. The comfort and the warmth of Mold Dough’s body were hard to reject - so they melted into it. It was so grounding to be in that position, to be reminded that their fate didn’t entirely rely on their shoulders alone.
Breathing wasn’t an easy task. To let go, to move on...some things linger like the mold on their sibling’s body, that it’s just there to stay. But not all reminders are damnation. Some, perhaps, are the foundation upon which one can start building anew.
And Venom Dough wasn’t yet sure how they’d manage that, but the burden of keeping them together felt less choking when they felt Mold Dough by their side and Pom-Pom on their lap, who had found solace in her rest at last.
Now the one trembling wasn’t the young Dough. It was Venom Dough themselves.
Their single eye watched as Mold Dough slowly fell asleep, his breathing becoming slower and calmer. In the quiet of the night, without anyone looking, Venom Dough allowed themselves to spill a few tears.
No one was going to punish them for it, this time. They were allowed to be as Cookie as anyone else, away from the scrutiny of monsters and the eyes of their siblings, who they knew expected much from them, as their guidance.
After a sniffle or two, they abandoned themselves to the bliss of sleep as well, knowing that they’d find the strength to be strong once more and give their siblings the future they deserved.
And a coal colored hand ruffled their hair gently as they drifted off, suggesting that maybe, someone had seen the relief of their cry.