Archive of Our Own

Shadow Milk Cookie found that there was no reason to ever leave the premises of their shabby cabin. Really, he had no need to! With the means to do anything or be anything at his fingertips, Shadow Milk had no need to ever leave the sanctity of their house- let alone their bedroom. If he had a choice, he never would.

Alas, his obnoxious other-half had to make his opinion known about his 'avoidant' and 'reclusive' behaviors as of late- citing that, 'I worry that you are closing in on yourself. What is happening with you, Blue bird?'

The pet-name almost convinced him to divulge the inner thoughts rattling in his head- leaving him pinned in place on their bed for hours and blurring the lines between imagination and reality. Perhaps if he hadn't already spent two days curled on top their sheets he would have been more willing to share, but his jaw refused to move.

He wonders what he must have looked like to the ancient. A pitiful sight, certainly, given the hesitancy Pure Vanilla spoke with and the extended hand just hovering over trembling shoulders. He must have said something in reply- witty or sarcastic he did not know- as the ancient's brows furrowed, and before he knew it, Shadow Milk was being pulled out of bed.

Claws dug into the bed and ripped the mattress underneath in a futile attempt at remaining put, and Shadow Milk hissed as his upper-half slammed into the carpeted floor of their room. He tried to kick Pure Vanilla but his ankles was firmly in his grasp, and the ancient looked at him with a stern expression- one that he knew all too well whenever he pushed him too far.

At the very least Pure Vanilla was not dragging him around their room. He did not, however, relinquish his grip on his ankles.

"Shadow Milk, you can't stay here all day."

Shadow Milk did not care what Pure Vanilla thought. What did he know, anyway? He wasn't doing anything to warrant his attention or his care that would normally come when he was a threat. Like this, quiet and still on their bed, Pure Vanilla did not have to worry about him.

He was wrong, apparently, as Pure Vanilla dropped to the floor next to him. He had his staff in hand- he didn't need to get any closer to see him. But the gentleness in which he held his face, thumb tracing the mark over his eye, made him unconsciously relax.

The ancient looked so worried this close up. Shadow Milk could see it through the way his eyes narrowed and through the downturn of his lips. So much concern, and for what? Nothing was wrong.

They stayed like that for a while. Shadow Milk doesn't know for how long, really- time meant so little these days. At some point, Pure Vanilla pressed their foreheads together and let out a soft sigh. He still held him- his palms warm against his cheeks and the feeling of callouses pressing against soft dough was oddly pleasant.

Eventually, Pure Vanilla broke the silence with a quiet request.

"Come outside with me? You can stay on the porch bench and rest there, if you wish. Enjoy the Summer air while I tend to the cream sheep, maybe? Please?"

And like the pathetic being he's become, Shadow Milk does. He melts under the ancient's hold and allows him to be pulled up off the floor. It takes him a minute before he's floating in the air, and then he's tugged towards their wardrobe to get dressed. He does so absentmindedly, robotically. Instead of his extravagant garbs he's traded them for a simple white-linen tunic with loose fitting black pants and a pair of boots- one size too big for him.

Oh, how far he's fallen; to dress so plainly and so thoughtlessly. What would his past self say now?

His brooch is the last thing put on his collar, pinching the collar closed and covering day old bandages. Then, he follows Pure Vanilla out of their cabin for the first time in months.

Here he was now; sitting on their porch swing with a blanket draped over thin shoulders, watching as Pure Vanilla carefully herded their small flock of cream sheep to the front of their cabin. He could have guided them towards the open fields just 20 minutes away from them, but it seems that Pure Vanilla wanted to remain close by today. Sap.

Shadow Milk slumps in his seat and tilts his head back, letting it hang at a slightly uncomfortable angle to stare at the wood above. His eyes were unfocused and blurry, as if a film had been placed over them without his knowing. The eyes in his hair would have normally adjusted for that, but it had been cut short a few weeks ago and now barely brushed his shoulders. The eyes were too small to be of any help, and he kept them closed.

He heard Pure Vanilla's laugh, the sound melodic and so sweet it twisted his stomach into knots and filled him with bitterness. After everything that has happened- after everything he's done- how could he still laugh? That empty headed, arrogant gnat, who still offered his hand time him on the battlefield, wishing to leave it all behind for good. Foolish cookie- believing he could be better. Something kind and benevolent as he, reprising a role he's long since disregarded.

Shadow Milk lifts his head up and squints his eyes towards the ancient, and watched as he tends to one of the older cream sheep of their flock. He had told the fool to not take them in when they first adopted the cream sheep, claiming that they'll bring more trouble than was worth. But like the kind-hearted cookie he was, Pure Vanilla lifted the old cream sheep over his shoulders and carried them back to their cart. His reply had been swift.

"All life, no matter age or species, deserves to be treated with compassion. Even if they do not have long to live, I would like to make their remaining days comfortable."

He hasn't brought the topic back up since, but Shadow Milk could tell that the old cream sheep was slowing down. It wouldn't be long now, he thinks to himself, and his expression sours at the thought. Best not to think about that.

From where he sits, he sees Pure Vanilla's hands checking over the old sheep's fleece, a frown marring his features with his brows pinched together. A particular spot around the stomach seems to be the point of concern as he strokes the fibers carefully while petting the sheep's head to keep them calm. Then, he turns to look in Shadow Milk's direction, his voice carefully controlled.

"Blue bird? Can you get the shears from the barn? I'm afraid I can't allow Daffodil to join the rest of the flock till I've handled their matting," Pure Vanilla explained, thumb slowly stroking the cream sheep's snout.

Shadow Milk narrowed his eyes as he leaned forward onto his knees, planting his too-large boots firmly onto the wooden paneling before. He let out a drawn out sigh.

"Making me do your work now after dragging me out of bed? How rude of you, Nilly, and after you told me I could simply 'rest'!"

At that, Pure Vanilla's face flushed with a slight tinge of embarrassment with the corners of his mouth lifting into a shy smile. "Please? After that, you can stay there for the rest of the day if you so wish. It should be near the back left corner where the rest of the gardening equipment is."

The beast rolled his eyes with a scowl, making a show of pushing himself off the porch bench with the blanket falling to the ground and stepping down their front steps. With his arms crossed, he just about stomped away while yelling over his shoulder, "They better be where you said or you'll be sleeping on the couch for a month."

He heard Pure Vanilla muffling giggles under his breath as he retreated towards the barn located behind the cabin. Once he was out of sight he began to hover just above the ground, wincing at the ache in his legs. He was meant to be getting used to walking as normal cookies do, but floating was so much easier. Even if it did heighten the risk of being recognized.

The barn came with the cabin, thankfully, but was in a dilapidated state when they moved in. Pure Vanilla has been steadily making progress on repairing the damages to the roof with its missing shingles and the walls with its rotted wood while Shadow Milk encourages him from the sidelines. The roof was fixed, but there were still holes in the walls that have yet to be covered.

As he opens the barn doors, Shadow Milk recalls Pure Vanilla mentioning wanting to take in my livestock. Chickens, maybe a cow, and even an assortment of rabbits- more for Shadow Milk's pleasure than his- to make themselves more self-sufficient. Shadow Milk thinks it's an excuse to relive his earlier days of living in a small, connected village with animals everywhere than anything else, and thought it was a terrible idea. He already has his cream sheep- why need anything else?

The interior, as much as Pure Vanilla tried, was still a mess of hay and dragged in mud from the cream sheep's hooves. The area where the sheep slept was the worst, and Shadow Milk covered his face as he passed by it. How Pure Vanilla tolerated the smell astounded him, as the wretched scent of cattle disgusted him.

Thankfully Pure Vanilla hadn't been wrong in his assertion; near the back of the barn, where the gardening equipment was kept were the shears used on the sheep. They were an old pair of shears, carefully maintained and sharpened diligently by steady hands that have memorized the actions over decades of experience. Not a lick of rust grew on the metal surface of those shears.

Shadow Milk slowly removes it from its spot on the wall, thumb tracing the engraving in the inside of the shears. The language written was ancient by the standards of modern cookies, but still distant from what Shadow Milk taught back in his heyday as the Fount. Institutionally he translated it to, 'Appreciate all that is given; Return the sentiment in kind,' which sounded odd to him as a modern saying. It sounded better in olden tongue, but he didn't care to try.

The weight of the metal sat heavy in his hand, and he squeezed the shears to hear the metal slide against one another, the sound of which was harsh against his ears. He repeated the action a few times, re-familiarizing himself with motion before letting his arm fall to his side.

Having acquired what he came for, Shadow Milk turns around to leave when suddenly he hears something large in their storage room fall and a sharp cry quickly following, echoing throughout the barn. It freezes him in mid-air, his body going taunt and his eyes snapping wide open. And for a moment after, there is nothing. Not a single sound except for the rustling of tree branches outside, or the muffled bleats of the cream sheep.

Then, he hears it again- this time more warbled than before, brittle and tittering off at the end. Shadow Milk turns around slowly, gripping the metal shears tightly and ignoring how painfully it digs into his palm. The door to their storage was unlocked, and he pushed it open, wincing at the squeal of the hinges.

The storage room didn't get much use. Most of it was old and broken equipment that had already been there when they moved it. Though Pure Vanilla kept bags of additional feed and milk replacer there to keep the sheep from getting to it. There was also a hole near the back that was covered by a tin sheet, which he now realizes has been pushed aside by whatever made that sound.

Speaking of which, Shadow Milk spots the initial source of the fall; a wooden shelf, now broken under its own weight, having once held metal buckets and spare parts to the old tracker out back. The rotted wood must have given out, and he spots something squirming under all that weight- letting out a weak wheeze as it struggled to free itself.

'It's tiny,' Shadow Milk realizes as he crouches to the ground. He sets the shears down- still in reach- and carefully begins to remove the junk off of it. Normally he wouldn't have bothered- he honestly couldn't care less about whatever was under the pile, and usually he'd ignore it instead.

Unfortunately, this was the most interesting thing he's seen since moving into the cabin- besides watching Pure Vanilla passive-aggressively respond to insistent and demanding letters from that blasted republic. It was funny watching him struggle to articulate the same democratic line over and over again of 'I'm retired stop contacting me.'

They would never listen; still inquiring about his whereabouts, when he'll return to the castle, if he's handled that wretched beast yet. That last part always made Pure Vanilla grind his molars together in carefully restrained anger, and he'd use his stylus to write back a curt response that avoided mentioning Shadow Milk at all; instead pivoting the conversation into something tame.

Besides those moments, though, there wasn't much in terms of entertainment living here. If nothing else, knowing whatever got crushed would at least ease his curiosity.

Mindful of the sharp metal and wood that could pierce his dough, Shadow Milk removes layers of debris from whatever was below. The first thing he spots is a leg with black fur and a tiny paw at the end. It kicked out weakly, the thing still trying desperately to free itself without the extra weight on top it. It was bent the wrong way, and with each twitch he heard the thing whimper in pain.

Still alive, then.

The last board covering the creature gave him a bit of trouble, and he hissed when his hand slipped and cut his palm on a piece of broken, jagged metal. The jam leaked sluggishly from the wound and traveled down his arm to stain his sleeve a dark blue. Shadow Milk rolled his eyes and took hold the board again, pushing it up with all his strength. Eventually the board fell over, and finally revealed the pitiful creature previously crushed under it.

The thing was tiny; obscured by dark fur and curled tightly in a ball, it trembled where it laid. The fur was patchy around its midsection- filthy with dirt and straw, and mewed pathetically as it tried to bring its broken leg closer to itself. Upon closer inspection, he noticed its eyes were blue with one paler than the other.

A cat. A kitten, more precisely, given its size. It couldn't have been older than a few months.

The kitten raises its head up weakly, pupils widening once it notices him. Its fur raises along its back, and it tries to bare its teeth and back away, but the movement jostles their injured leg and makes them cry. It whines in pain, head wobbling before dropping down in defeat, totally at the mercy of what loomed over it.

And Shadow Milk... stared. Just stared at it, with his bloody hand steadily dripping jam and his expression fixed.

He wasn't expecting a cat of all things. A rodent, maybe, or a fox that wandered in from the scent of sheep. Not a cat who has accepted defeat and laid helplessly before him, waiting for the inevitable. Nor did he expect his jam-soaked hand to lift the cat from off the floor, mindful to not move its broken leg.

The beast held the kitten up to his chest and cradled the pathetic thing in a gentle hold. The kitten peered up at him, its panicked breathing from before slowing down into a less frantic rhythm. It rested its head against his thumb, licking the stray jam and relaxing in his hands.

Time passed without him even noticing; his focus was entirely captured by the kitten in his hands. Hunched over this kitten, watching as dirt and jam mixed together and grew tacky against his dough. It should have disgusted him. It didn't.

From far away he could hear the sound of Pure Vanilla calling his name- his voice worried and cautious as it grew louder with his approach. But the sound was muffled in his ears as his thumb gently caressed the kitten's ear, his thoughts more akin to static than anything rational.

The barn's doors are thrown open and smack against the wooden walls, making the kitten tense and their eyes widen in sudden freight. Pure Vanilla's voice was much clearer now.

"Shadow Milk?" He called, trailing deeper into the barn and approaching the storage room, "Are you okay? You aren't hurt, are you?"

Of course that's what he would ask. Shadow Milk lets out an amused huff, and immediately he hears Pure Vanilla hurried footsteps closing in on him.

The storage room door had been left ajar, but Pure Vanilla pushed it wide open with more force than necessary, wincing as it hits the wall next to him. He spots Shadow Milk in the back on his knees, and relief floods his chest. However, when he smells the scent of rotted blueberries in the air and makes out the broken self on the floor, he immediately crosses the room and is at Shadow Milk's side with magic brimming at his fingertips.

He reaches out to grab Shadow Milk's shoulder, but his fingers only get to brush the fabric of his tunic before Shadow Milk is pulling away from him with an annoyed sigh. The beast's body was folded in on itself, hiding whatever he held in his hands from view but giving him a clear look at the bloody state of his sleeve- the sight of which twists Pure Vanilla heart.

"You're hurt," he says quietly, and Shadow Milk rolls his eyes.

"Wow. Thanks for pointing out the obvious, genius," he replies, pressing the kitten closer to his chest, "Want a medal? A kiss on the cheek?"

"No, that's-" Pure Vanilla begins, but cuts himself off with a sigh, hand lowering to his lap.

"I thought something happened- you were taking so long, and without your Souljam-"

"Well I'm perfectly fine and dandy, as you can see," Shadow Milk says before nodding his head towards the shears on the ground, "Found your shears, so you can go back to your sheep now."

"And leave you here while you're still bleeding? No, just- let me heal you," Pure Vanilla said, reaching out again and once again being met with rejection.

"I'm fine!" Shadow Milk hissed, pushing himself away and smearing jam across the floor, "You're excused now! Stop worrying so much, Nilly- it's only a scratch!"

"If it was a scratch you would have been whining to me about how injured you were and demand to be healed," he pointed out, his brows pinching in concern, "Did you rip your stitches, too? Oh, Bluebird, you know I don't mind-"

At the mention of his stitches, Shadow Milk's  expression fell with shame settling heavy in his stomach. He's starkly reminded of the ache spanning the length of his torso- the sharp pull of thread keeping his insides from spilling out. The stitches that keep tearing and constantly reminding him of the salt still embedded in the wound, preventing it from ever closing.

Shadow Milk scowled, "My stitches are fine. You always do this- make things a bigger deal than they are! One measly cut isn't going to do anything!"

"Then let me look."

"I just said-!"

From Shadow Milk's hands a small cry rings out, interrupting their argument and startling them both. Pure Vanilla's gaze drifts down to Shadow Milk's chest and he notices the glimpse of fur peaking through the gaps of his fingers, and the flicker of a tail swaying limply against his tunic. A tiny face lifts up from his palm, and he realizes it was a kitten cradled in his partner's hands.

"Oh!" Pure Vanilla exclaimed, "Where did they come from?"

Shadow Milk looked away with his lip bitten between his teeth. He gently caressed the kitten's snout, his words coming out through gritted teeth.

"Got in through the hole in the wall."

"Is she hurt?"

"...just her leg."

"May I have a look?"

A look of hesitation crosses the beast's face, his grip momentarily tightening around the kitten. Pure Vanilla's hands were held out but not imposingly- he simply waited for a response, letting Shadow Milk mull it over. Eventually, he slowly extends his arms out to gently place the kitten in his waiting hands, jam dripping onto his palm.

The kitten, in realizing that it was being passed to someone new, yowled. It squirmed in Pure Vanilla's hands, snarling and trying to claw at his dough to escape, but its claws were too small, and its voice too wispy to be of any real threat.

Carefully he took hold of its leg, making it cry out in distress. It looked to Shadow Milk, eyes pleading for him to take it back. The beast kept his hands at his side, fists clenched as to not rip the kitten away from his partner. He knew what he was doing, he rationalized, even as his eye twitched when he put the bone back into place.

With a bit of magic, the bone is completely healed. The kitten kicks its leg out, testing its newly healed limb, before leaping out of his hands. It lands a few feet away and runs towards the hole it came from. Before it left, it turned around to hiss at Pure Vanilla, its fur bristled and tail upright, and disappeared through the hole.

A hush fell over them as they both stared at the hole the kitten left out of. Pure Vanilla slowly lowered his hands to his lap, the jam on his hand drying and turning tacky the longer he let it sit. He looked over at his partner, and was surprised to see the thinly-veiled expression of disappointment written all over his face.

He just stared at the spot the kitten left from, as if waiting for it make a reappearance. Jam still seeped from the wound on his palm, and he ignored how it dried into his pants. Just watching, waiting for something to happen.

Pure Vanilla stays silent for a moment, and then extends out his hand. Slowly, Shadow Milk lifts his own jam-stained hand and roughly drops it into the ancient's waiting palm. He doesn't look as Pure Vanilla heals the wound- doesn't acknowledge him using his own sleeve to clean fur and dirt from the edges of the incision. He simply sits there, motionless.

The ancient then stands, hand still holding his and the other occupied by the shears he was meant to have retrieved. A slight tug of his hand, more of an invitation than a demand, and Shadow Milk lets himself be pulled off the floor.

Now standing, he could feel the ache in his knees from sitting on them for however long he had, and the jam that soaked into his clothes now clings to him uncomfortably.  The tiredness that's kept him pinned to their bed returns, and all he wishes to do is crawl back under those sheets and never get out again- even if Pure Vanilla begs him to.

Another pull on his hand, and Shadow Milk follows Pure Vanilla out of the barn. While he can't see the expression on the ancient's face, he knew what the tension woven in his shoulders meant. The way his hand seemed to meld into his own- the idea of separation too much to bare. He didn't need to see what he already knows.

He chooses to ignore it anyway.

-

Their cabin, much to Shadow Milk displeasure, was not as remote had he had hoped for. While he didn't have to worry about any Crème Republic delegates showing up at their door unexpectedly, that doesn't mean they don't get any visitors.

The most common visitors- the only ones he tolerated- were Black Raisin Cookie and Strawberry Crepe Cookie, the latter of which always sent a crow before hand announcing their plans to visit. It gave Pure Vanilla enough time to tidy up their home for their arrival, and Shadow Milk enough time to barricade himself in their bedroom.

He wouldn't ever admit it, but they weren't necessarily bad company. Black Raisin didn't make much noise, and was more than content to spend time outside on the porch swing drinking tea and catching Pure Vanilla up on the happenings in the Vanilla Kingdom.

The brat was a nuisance but at least they had the sense not to disturb him. They'd bring along their prototype waffle-bots and test their durability by letting the cream sheep go at it. Other times Strawberry Crepe would lay among them and spend the entire time of their visit napping- a stark contrast to their hyper focused behavior back in the kingdom. Guess the kid needed to rest after all.

If they were the only cookies visiting their cabin, then Shadow Milk wouldn't have hated it so much. The problem? They weren't, because his idiotic fool of an ancient opened their doors to the local villagers about thirty minutes away from them whenever they came for medical advice.

Rarely did they require a visit to the village near them, but occasionally had to in order to get more feed for the sheep and other supplies they were running low on. Shadow Milk would stay in the cabin under the guise of 'staying hidden,' and Pure Vanilla at least had the decency to good back to his normal look to draw less attention. Still, when someone in the middle of town was hurt from a fall, Pure Vanilla couldn't help but provide aid. Ever since then there have been cookies showing up at their cabin at all hours of the day seeking aid.

For instance:

It is the middle of the night when a cookie decides to knock on their door. Shadow Milk, who had been curled around Pure Vanilla as they slept, snapped his eyes open at the sound. With a hiss, he poked Pure Vanilla in the cheek to wake him up, rolling his eyes at the whine the ancient let out.

"Someone's at the door," Shadow Milk huffed, untangling himself from the mess of limbs they've become. "Go handle it."

"Can't you answer the door?" He asked as he groggily rubbed his eyes.

Shadow Milk was already leaning over the bed and putting on whatever clothes he could find, almost ripping the tunic with how roughly he pulled it over his head.

"The only reason they show up is because you had to say you were a medic," Shadow Milk replied, slipping off their bed and swiftly crossing the room to their door. "You brought them here, you handle it."

Pure Vanilla grabbed his staff, the eye of the orchid blinking open and staring at him. The ancient's brows scrunched together, confusion written all over his face.

"Where are you going?"

"Oh, you know. Out," Shadow Milk shrugged as he leans against the door, waving his hand dismissively. "Chances are if they came in the middle of the night they're probably in a crumbly, desperate state and will say, 'Thank you we'll be on our way now' and you'll say, 'Don't go! The trek is long and you need rest- stay the night!' And I really don't want to be around for that."

The grip around the staff tightened, and Shadow Milk grinned, knowing he was pressing on a bit of a sore spot. He knew he was right, and Pure Vanilla knew that, too. That didn't change the guilt radiating off the ancient in waves- honestly it might have made it worse.

"Shadow Milk..."

Shadow Milk stepped out their bedroom with a kick in his step, humming as he did so. He ripped the back door of the cabin open, and over his shoulder he yelled, "Enjoy their company, Nilly! I'll be rotting away in the woods while you get to hear the latest gossip from town- how exciting!"

The door slammed shut behind him, and he heard the group of cookies at the front door jump in surprise. If they heard him yelling, they best be glad he only did that for disturbing his sleep. Shadow Milk dragged his hands down his face, groaning into his hands with the knowledge that he's most likely not going to sleep again. He already buried that hatchet, and with the high likelihood of getting lost in the forest, he decides to enter the barn.

Slipping in quietly through the barn doors, Shadow Milk finds the entire flock sleeping soundly on their piles of hay. Except Daffodil, who quickly lifts up their head, surprisingly alert for their age. It stares at him, and for a moment Shadow Milk worries they'll decide he wasn't welcomed and slam him into the wall- but Daffodil huffs, and lays back down.

Should he be offended for not being perceived as a threat? Maybe, but he would rather not embarrass himself by fighting some dumb sheep of all things.

... what was he even doing? Avoiding other cookies, yes- but what now? What was he expecting to happen when he entered the barn? Something strange or mysterious- maybe something extraordinary to sink his teeth into? Something to break up the monotony his life has become entrenched in? What was the point of any of this?

What was doing, staying in this Witch-forsaken cabin and watching as time slipped away through his fingers- trying and failing to grasp onto something tangible, something real? Who was he anymore if he wasn't playing the part of the beast, or as the prophet? Even if Pure Vanilla asked nothing of him in return- only wishing for his company- what was he anymore?

Just a pet to watch over and manage or else another calamity would occur? A doll to hold, to squeeze on those cold nights and to tell them over and over again that, 'you're safe now' and 'you'll never be alone again?'

Those sweetened words, meant to soothe and coddle and hold what fragments remain of his broken self, now felt like being on the receiving end of a blade.

Shadow Milk hadn't realized how enveloped he was in his thoughts until, from the corner of his eye, a black blur hurries into the slight gap of the storage room and breaking the immersion he found himself in. He is still for a second, wondering if it was his mind playing tricks on him again, before he heard claws scrapping against wood coming from the storage room.

Did it come back?

Stepping around the slumbering flock of cream sheep, Shadow Milk hastily approached the storage room. He could hear the scratching better now, and the desperate yowls of a kitten trying to get something to eat. The door gave way under his touch, and even with the darkness blanketing the barn, Shadow Milk could see in the back the same kitten from a few days ago trying to reach the upper shelves.

With one quick glance he spots the sheep feed placed on the upper shelves, and it all clicked together. Stepping into the room, he drew the attention of the kitten- who bristled in surprise, head snapping back towards him. Its claws were out, tearing into the wooden wall as it stretched out in an attempt to reach the feed. Even if it jumped it wouldn't have reached it.

Slowly he approached, straw snapping under his boots as he watched the kitten stare back at him. It didn't move from its spot- paralyzed in place and breathing almost erratically- as if terrified he'd do something to harm it. Fair, given he did hand it off to Nilly who proceeded to snap the bone back into place, but rude considering he did save its life.

Now standing in front of it, the kitten seemed to tremble with anticipation. His earlier assertion of the kitten's pathetic, timid state still held true it appeared, but he was feeling merciful. The bag was tied closed, but with a quick pull at the end of it the bag was opened. Dipping his hand into the feed and sticking his tongue out at the texture, he pulls out a handful of feed and lays it on the floor.

He steps back, putting space between the kitten and him, before crouching down on his knees. His arms a wrap around his legs, making himself appear smaller, and stayed perfectly still.

The kitten meanwhile glanced from the feed up to Shadow Milk, unsure if it was safe for it to eat. It slowly approached the feed, circling around it and sniffing it for poison, the fur along its back began to soften. Tension melted away from the kitten, and with its back turned to him, began to eat the feed.

It must have been some time since it's eaten with how fast it devours the feed, licking its snout and sniffing the ground down for more. Even under that fur Shadow Milk knew it was mostly bone under there, and without any fat reserves it would have died once winter set in. Then, the kitten turned to him, and mewled in a polite demand for more.

"I'm not sure you should even be eating this stuff," Shadow Milk mumbles, extending his hand out towards the kitten.

The kitten smells his fingers, giving it a few kitten-licks to taste the residue of the feed and rubbing its face against his knuckles. It was doing a lot to convince him to feed it, and Shadow Milk chuckles when it begins to purr.

"Conniving little thing, aren't you?" He coos, and it met with a meow in response.

He ends up taking the bag down and pouring a hefty amount on the straw floor, watching as the kitten happily devoured its meal like it was their last. It could have been if he wasn't there, he thinks quietly, and scratches the kitten's back. There wasn't any use thinking of 'what-ifs?' was there?

Eventually he stands up, stretching his back with a tired yawn and rubbing his eyes. Maybe he would get some sleep tonight. He waves at the kitten, catching its attention as he moves to leave.

"Leave some for the sheep- I don't want Nilly thinking I did something to it," He said, and he expected that to be the last of the kitten.

Instead, the kitten was quick to follow, rubbing its head against his leg and meowing at him. He raised a curious brow before rolling his eyes.

"Alright I guess," he mumbles, quietly making his way towards Daffodil who was still awake. "But if you throw up all that food you better not get any on me."

He all but collapsed onto the straw floor, fatigue seeping into his dough and threatening to drag him into the realm of unconsciousness. He still had enough sense to lay himself down against Daffodil, and the sheep lightly nipped at his hair in response before letting him be.

The kitten climbed onto his chest and curled up into a ball. It began to purr, and Shadow Milk wondered if it was healthy for them to be that loud. His lifted his hand and placed it lightly over the kitten, his body going boneless against the floor.

From the crack in the roof, he could make out the Moon just overhead. It was a crescent moon that night, and it seemed to mock him from its place in the sky. It's light shined down upon him, seemingly waiting for him to do something, anything.

And he tried. He tried to reach out for his dormant magic; tried to hear the sharp voice of the Souljam of Deceit; tried to feel the biting cold of his magic against his fingers. But nothing came of it, and eventually the Moon disappeared from view.

How poetic, Shadow Milk thinks with a humorless laugh, that after everything he's done, he's be left an empty shell with nothing more to lose. The realization was bitter on his tongue, and he buried his face in Daffodil's fleece in an attempt to quiet his mind.

Faintly he could hear footsteps approaching the barn, but sleep took him before he could see who it was.

-

"I'm starting to get the impression that she doesn't like me."

From where Shadow Milk sat at the desk in the far right corner of the room, he glanced over his shoulder to see a slightly disheveled Pure Vanilla with his hair riddled with knots and orchid staff appearing to be missing a few petals. The beast rolled his eyes, directing his attention back to the kitten in front of him.

"Don't say that- she'll take it personally."

"You aren't denying it?"

"I do not control what Priscilla feels. Maybe you did something to her, or she just hates you. Take your pick."

The kitten, now known as Priscilla, meowed in agreement. Currently she was sat on one of their spare pillows and had grown every since she began living inside the cabin. Her fur had grown long and fluffy, and she was turning out to be quite a long cat. She also shed everywhere, and would occasionally throw up fur balls. Specifically, she would throw them up on Pure Vanilla's clothes.

Pure Vanilla looked over at his side of the bed and found another fur-ball there. "Don't you think you're spoiling her? She is getting quite… crude."

"Of course you'd say that," Shadow Milk huffed, securing a white ribbon around Priscilla's neck, "You don't want me to be happy with my kitty because you're jealous."

"What? Why would I be jealous?" Pure Vanilla questioned, and Shadow Milk snickered.

"Unlike before, you don't get me all to yourself anymore! Instead of getting to drag me around villages or outside, I can stay here with Priscilla and not do anything at all."

"That's not even-" Pure Vanilla began before sighing, dragging a had down his face. Then, slowly and very composed he said, "I just think you should teach her to be kinder, is all."

"And I'm so sure she'll like that just as she enjoyed the bath we gave her," Shadow Milk scoffed, adjusting the bow one last time before nodding his head in satisfaction. He lifted Priscilla and placed her on his lap, swiveling around in the chair with a mischievous grin on his face. "She is my cat, so I'll teach her the way I want."

The ancient looked so close to dropping his understanding demeanor and wring out his neck. He wouldn't, but he looked like he was imaging that very scenario. It made Shadow Milk's grin grow as he scratched Priscilla's chin. It was fun riling him up.

"I suppose you won't be joining me in going to the town, then?" Pure Vanilla asked, his attention shifting towards he orchid as he carefully repaired the torn petals.

"Nope!"

Pure Vanilla exhaled, appearing disappointed for a moment before schooling his features. Even after everything he was still at hiding his thoughts, Shadow Milk internally huffed. How anyone could struggle to understand him was honestly beyond him- the ancient was an open book for anyone willing to read between the lines. Too sincere and too kind; the fool was hopeless.

As he went to leave, Pure Vanilla asked him, "By the way, have you seen the blue birds lately? They have not been visiting as often, and I'm starting to worry."

Shadow Milk waved his hand dismissively. "They're probably just tired of the seeds you give them. Get some variety while you're in town and they'll be back in no time- the greedy bastards."

A giggle tumbled past the ancient's lips as he covered his mouth with his sleeve. He stepped out their bedroom with the door closing quietly behind him, his voice muffled as he said, "I'll be sure to look for premium seeds, then."

Shadow Milk listened for the ancient's retreating steps, hearing him hum as he grabbed the satchel in the kitchen and open their front door. Only when he knew Pure Vanilla was out of sight did he stand up from his chair with Priscilla in his arms, mumbling under his breath.

"Can you believe him? Telling me how to take care of you?" He said, lifting Priscilla up above his head. She let out a quiet meow, and Shadow Milk rolled his eyes. "Exactly! What does he know, anyway? You're doing much better than before, so he should be focusing on that!"

He placed her on the windowsill with a final scratch to her chin, a purr rumbling from her chest, before approaching their closet. He threw the doors open and pulled a mannequin stand which already had fabric draped and pinned over it. Pure Vanilla had surprised him with a bundle of different fabrics the week prior, and with the cream sheep's wool now spun into yarn, he finally has the motivation to get back into sewing.

It wasn't meant to be anything intricate. His hands weren't as steady as they once were and without his magic he couldn't cycle through as many patterns as he used to. He's already gone through multiple sketches  to think of something he'd like, and so far he hasn't reached anything close to what he deemed acceptable. But it was still better than anything he had made in months- which was nothing.

The base of the garment was a dark blue, but what should he make? New robes? A new dramatic ensemble to bring back the flare he was known for? Something plain and simple to fit into the new life he was meant to be settling into? He wasn't very sure.

Maybe he should start out small. The cold was beginning to set it, and he didn't have any winter clothes that wasn't just layers of Pure Vanilla's robes. Ugly, outdated robes that washed him out and did nothing for his figure. Even if they were warm, having something that was just his would do wonders.

A poncho, perhaps? Long and flowy, with embroidered details along the edge and stones inlaid throughout? Shadow Milk hummed at the idea as he threaded his needle with floss, toying around with what he should embroider. Stars were always his go to, as were diamonds and moons, but the idea bored him. He's done them plenty of times- what else should he do?

Gold would be a nice contrast to the blue he thinks, pushing the needle through the fabric near where the collar would be. He'll have to add ruffles, and then stones to make sure the poncho doesn't just fly up in the wind, and then the latch for the Souljam would have to go somewhere-

Shadow Milk's hand freezes, the needle halfway through the fabric and in the middle of a stitch. His eyes fluttered, gaze slightly unfocused as he leaned back in his chair. From the nightstand, he can feel the slightest thrum coming from inside the drawer. He knew that as soon as he opened it that it would go silent again before taunting him later, forever reminding him of its presence.

His Souljam, gray and lifeless, would ruin the garment. It would sit heavy on his collar and draw the eye in the worst way possible with how starkly it stood out against the otherwise vibrant look. The occasional ooze of corruption would stain the poncho irreversibly and then he'd have to make a new one. When it would crack under the lightest of pressures and bring him to his knees with a wave of dizziness, he'll have to remember just how powerless he was here.

No, the Souljam should not be added to the poncho. It would only cause more harm than good Shadow Milk reasoned before continuing from the stitch he stopped on. Even if he missed the heavy weight of it against his chest, he couldn't risk damaging it any further.

Mindlessly he works on the collar for what felt like hours, his mind quiet as he does so. He was right- the golden thread does contrast the blue nicely. With the edges now sealed, he pushed his needle into the side of the mannequin's neck to not lose it and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He glanced out the window to see the leaves outside changing colors; the reds, yellows, and oranges painting a scene straight out a postcard.

When they first came to this cabin, Shadow Milk's stitches were still fresh. The leaves were a lush green and wildflowers were in full bloom. Pure Vanilla had commented something about it.

"This land used to be baron when I was young," he had recalled, sitting next to them on the cart carrying all their belongings. They had been riding for hours now. "It was a pleasant surprise to return and see it thriving once more."

"Who's to say it won't all go belly-up in the next century?" Shadow Milk asked bitterly, head resting against Pure Vanilla's shoulder with a blanket thrown over his lap. He hasn't slept since their hasty departure from the kingdom.

"It probably will," Pure Vanilla hummed, steering their cart away from a nasty hole in the path. "The fire that burnt down this forest was an accident from a camper forgetting to put out their fire. And accidents will always occur no matter how much we try to prevent it. But that doesn't mean we're doomed to an unrelenting cycle of pointlessness- it means that, no matter what, we can always heal from the past."

Shadow Milk starred at him, his lip curled in disgust. Of course he had to make it into a lesson of healing and redemption. Of course he did.

"Just shut up already," he grumbled as he closed his eyes.

Pure Vanilla chuckled in response, and the rest of the trip had been quiet. Has it really been months since then? Really?

... maybe he should make Pure Vanilla something. As a courtesy gesture. Maybe.

His thoughts are interrupted by Priscilla jumping into his lap. Her paws were a bit dirty, indicating she must have ventured outside while he was busy. Still an outdoor cat at heart, Shadow Milk thought, and tried to scratch her chin.

Except there was something in her jaw. Instead of meeting fluffy, soft fur, Shadow Milk feels a small, feathery body that was squirming in the kitten's mouth. His attention snaps down at the kitten and realizes that Priscilla had a blue bird captured in her jaws.

Has she... been hunting the blue birds? Is that why they weren't showing up. Shadow Milk winces, scratching the back of his neck as he recalls Priscilla bringing him blue feathers just days ago and thinking nothing of it. How many blue birds did she get?

Shadow Milk offered his hand, and Priscilla proudly placed her prize in his hand. The blue bird seemed unharmed- just frazzled and confused as to what was happening. Still, even if she hadn't killed this one, chances are he could find the bodies of the others somewhere around their cabin.

And if Pure Vanilla found out...

He would be sad. He loved these little things just as he loved his cream sheep. Witch's sake, his nickname for Shadow Milk was 'blue bird,' damn it. It's a miracle Priscilla hasn't dropped one of them onto his pillows yet just to mock him.

The worst part? Pure Vanilla was right- he couldn't let Priscilla just murder little birds whenever she wanted. For the sake of Pure Vanilla's feelings and the lives of the little critters outside, he actually has to train her.

But first, he had to curb her desire of massacring the local bird population.

After releasing the poor bird once he deemed it healthy enough, he grabbed the lightest blue fabric he had and began cutting out a pattern. He had a vague idea of what a bird in doll form would look like, but really he's free handing the design and hoping for the best.

Then he grabs a spare pillow and rips it open for the stuffing, and then digs through their storage for an alarm clock. He has no idea why Pure Vanilla packed one, but it came in handy as he pulled the back off and took out the alarm. It'll have to do.

Sewing the bird with shaking hands was not as easy as he hoped. The small stitches needed came out sloppy and not at all in a straight line, and the embroidered features were uneven. It was the worst doll he's ever made, but when he flicked the alarm inside its chest and threw it to the ground, Priscilla immediately attacked it.

She loved the fake bird- clawing at it, biting its fake wings and then flinging it away to chase it again. She was vicious as she pounded on it, and Shadow Milk sighed in relief. He should have known she needed something to play with, but at least now she had something.

He'll have to tell Pure Vanilla about the birds later. Right now, he had to find a way to make more of those fake birds as he watches Priscilla ripe the head off of the one he just made.

-

He couldn't breathe. The air was filled with smoke and the scent of spilled jam from the crumbled cookies around him. Their dough broken to bits under a cruel cackle from the Witch lording above them, relishing in their demise.

In turn, Pure Vanilla was frozen in place. His friend's bodies were scattered across the land, slowly bleeding jam and choking on their spit. They would be crumbs once he reached them, he knew. From faraway, he could see White Lily in the distance, a haunting smile on her face as she fades away. Even if he ran, he wouldn't reach her in time.

Behind him he could hear someone's last exhale; someone's last prayer; someone's last hope, shatter before them. And he couldn't move.

At his feet, staining his robes and covering his shaking hands is blue jam. There is only one cookie he knows that bleeds blue jam that smelt of rotted blueberries and felt so wrong on his dough. The jam surrounded him on all sides, and then he heard it.

The choked breath of the beast, desperately clawing at the ground to regain control over his body. The wheeze that shook his chest and the wet cough at came after. Slowly did Pure Vanilla lift his gaze from the ground, his lungs tight in his chest, and saw Shadow Milk laid flat on the ground.

Finally did he move- stumbling and tripping over his robes as he collapsed by the beast's side. His hands darted towards the wound in his abdomen, his magic coursing through the beast's trembling body and trying to repair the damage done.

But it wasn't working.

The Souljam on his chest was cracked; leaking color and slowly graying. Shadow Milk grew cold under him, his breathing growing more shallow with each second that passed. His magic wasn't working.

Tears welled up in eyes as Shadow Milk's breathing grew still. He bowed his head, curling over the beast's dying form as a shadow enveloped them both in the shape of a boot. He pressed his forehead against Shadow Milk's, quietly begging the beast to wake up.

He knew he wouldn't.

The boot descended on them both, and before he could feel his own dough crumble under the force of it, his eyes snap open.

He still couldn't breathe, but not from the smoke or the oppressive scent of jam. Instead, it was because of the big furry cat sitting on his face and resting her paws against his throat.

This was the third time that week that Priscilla did this.

He brought his hands up to pick her up, lifting her slowly from her ribs, and was met with her fangs sinking into his dough. Pure Vanilla winced, but he was starting to get used to the vicious kitten his partner brought home. Kind of. He would like it if she didn't bite him so much.

He placed her down next to his head and she hissed at him once he removed his hands. She curled up into a ball, glared at him, before returning to sleep. Pure Vanilla rubbed his eyes, wiping away stray tears and trying to calm his racing heart.

It wasn't the first nightmare he's had about the war. It wouldn't be the last, either. Ever since he returned to the Vanilla Kingdom he's been plagued by them nightly. It's only now that they've calmed down to occurring every few days, but the scene was always the same. Cookies crumbling, his friends too far to reach, and Shadow Milk dying in his arms.

It never changes.

He looks towards the other side of the bed, expecting to see Shadow Milk still sleeping since it was still the middle of the night, but he wasn't. Instead, a patch of drying blue jam took his place with their blanket now missing from the bed. He looked over the side of the bed and found a jam-trail leading out of their bedroom- and if he guessed- to their bathroom.

Pushing himself off the bed, Pure Vanilla stumbled out their bedroom with a tightness in his chest. The smell of jam became more prominent the closer he got to the bathroom, and the door has been left open with only a crack to pear into. The brass handle was covered in jam with some dripping onto the floor. Pure Vanilla braced his hand against the door, steeling his fraying nerves, and slowly pushed it open.

The sight of Shadow Milk on the bathroom floor with the blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders and back pressed firmly against the wall broke his heart. It wasn't the first time he found Shadow Milk purposely hiding from him when the stitches broke. It was almost routine by this point- but the sight of him sitting in his own jam made Pure Vanilla nauseous.

He stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him, his gaze never straying from Shadow Milk. The beast's eyes stared ahead at the wall in front of him, not acknowledging his presence verbally but choosing to instead tighten the blanket around his shoulder. The jam was soaking into the blanket. They'll have to get another one now.

Pure Vanilla sank down to the floor across from Shadow Milk, pulling his legs close to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. He kept his gaze away from Shadow Milk's eyes and instead focused on the jam spread across the tiled ground. It was already drying, and it didn't appearing to be growing any larger thankfully. Still, if the wounds were wide enough to leave a trail from their bedroom and then a puddle he had to close them soon.

Instead of moving closure, or offering his hand to him, Pure Vanilla remained still, waiting. He found that typically worked better with the beast- letting him choose what he wanted to do instead of pushing for it even when the waiting killed him inside. It has been one of their many arguments ever since the end of war- allowing Pure Vanilla to tend to his most serious wounds versus letting them fester and break open every so often. No matter what he said, Shadow Milk always refused- either due to pride or shame, the beast refused to allow the wound to fully seal. He may never.

He's always been a patient cookie. Ever since he was a child rearing cream sheep to a king running an entire kingdom, Pure Vanilla's patience and restraint was something he had developed over the course of centuries. But somehow, Shadow Milk always seemed to test it either knowing or not. Watching as the beast trembled under what must have been agonizing pain from the salt crystals aggravating the wound and choose to not seek help was testing his resolve.

Yet, Pure Vanilla still waited, and eventually, the beast moved.

The blankets shifted with him as Shadow Milk dragged himself across the tile, smearing jam as he did so. The pungent smell of rotted dough hit Pure Vanilla's nose and years of treating the injured in cramped medical bays is the only reason he doesn't recoil. The beast lifts his hand and pushes weakly against Pure Vanilla's knees, a silent request he knows all too well. Pure Vanilla keeps his touch light as he gathers Shadow Milk onto his lap, letting him lean his full weight against him and claw at the front of his nightgown.

He had been right; the jam did soak through the blanket, and he watched as the front of his gown turned blue. He laid a hand against Shadow Milk's back, tracing the wet patch with his finger and trying to deduce just how much jam the beast had lost. Shadow Milk rested his head against his collar bone, sagging into his hold as he stared at the door.

Quietly, the beast broke the silence, saying, "Sometimes, I wish you let me die there."

The arms around the beast tightened, Pure Vanilla biting back a thoughtless denial that sat heavy on his tongue. It wasn't the first time he's heard the sentiment from Shadow Milk either through his words or actions. But he remains quiet, his grip on him never faltering, and simply listening.

"It's stupid. I don't even want to die," Shadow Milk huffed, a faint smile on his face. "But if I had, then at least it would have meant something. 'The beasts finally get their comeuppance and the heroes  save the world from tragedy' is a classic story format; predictable, reliable, and neat. Everything tied up in a pretty bow and everyone is satisfied."

A humorless chuckle shakes his frame as he continues. "But that didn't happen l, did it? We barely survived- I barely survived with a Souljam in pieces, and you couldn't help but save me, could you? Holding the shards of it in your hand even when they cut your fingers; pouring your magic into my fractured dough; all in an effort to 'save me.' The story continues, pointless and derivative, as I rot away in this blasted cabin with you."

"What am I meant to do, now?" Shadow Milk pondered, licking his dry and cracked lips. "I'm not anything, anymore. My magic no longer responds to my demands; I'm stuck in cabin all day doing nothing; and I see no future where I'm ever me again. You should have let me go that day and be done with it."

He fell quiet after that. The blanket slipped off his back and at some point he removed his night shirt as the full extent of his injuries was revealed. The stitching in his back had opened near the top, the dough stretched thin across his back as jam leaked through the remaining stitches. But it was the entry wound he was most worried about.

The front stitches had been clawed open. He can see the scrape marks across his chest and a quick look at Shadow Milk's hands gave him all he needed to know. He moved a hand from Shadow Milk's back to press against his stomach in a poor attempt to stop the bleeding.

He pressed his lips against the crown of Shadow Milk's head, hearing how the beast's breath hitched, and said, "I'll never apologize for saving you, dear. Nothing you do will ever make me regret that. Not now, not in the future."

Pure Vanilla lifted his other hand to cradle Shadow Milk's face, tilting his head back to look at him. His dear beast kept his gaze away from him, his body trembling in his grasp. His thumb traced the symbol underneath Shadow Milk's eye, trying to find the right words to comfort.

"But, dear, you don't have to be anything to deserve existence," Pure Vanilla stressed. "All cookies, big or small, exist without a set purpose in mind- and that's what makes living so precious. Getting to grow and change from the mistakes you make, and letting yourself be vulnerable with those you love is living.

"And you never had that. A life defined by purpose isn't living Shadow Milk- it's cruelty. Stripped of identity and isolated from cookie-kind... I don't think you ever really had the chance to live till now," Pure Vanilla concluded, his eyes somber as he pulled Shadow Milk closer.

"So what?" Shadow Milk hissed, pushing his hand off his face. "I'm supposed to accept this and move on? Be content being in this shabby cabin surrounded by smelly sheep and random villagers that decide to come by? Is that how I'm meant to live now?"

"That's the thing; we have eternity to figure it out," Pure Vanilla said, dropping his had to his lap. "We don't have to stay here forever. We can leave if we ever want to- settle somewhere new or just travel for fun. Life doesn't have to feel stagnant to be real; it just has to be true to yourself."

Shadow Milk lifted his gaze from the door and finally looked at him for the first time since he arrived. The hollowness of his gaze was starting to recede, but there was still a look of trepidation and pension to it. Shakily, he sets his hand over his, pressing it firmer against the wound. It gives a slight squelch, jam still weeping from the wound, but he held his hand tightly.

"And if I want to leave this place? If I choose to leave here- maybe even you- behind, what would you do?"

A sad, worried smiled crept up Pure Vanilla's lips. "Is that really what you want?"

Shadow Milk's brows furrowed, appearing so unsure of himself in what he truly desired. Did he want to stay here? Did he want to leave?

"I... I don't know," he quietly admitted. "I'm not sure when I will."

"Then we'll take everything one day at a time," Pure Vanilla hummed, a soft glow emanating from his finger tips. The irritated dough relaxed under his touch, and Shadow Milk held his hand as he traveled up the wound carefully. "Till you know what you want, we'll keep taking our time, and we'll have each other. Okay?"

The wound wasn't fully sealed, and the stitches would have to be replaced later, but for now it would do. Shadow Milk didn't respond and instead leaned his head back against his collarbone. The jam-loss was starting to get to him it seemed, and Pure Vanilla adjusted the blanket to cover them both.

Leaning back against the wall with his arms wrapped around Shadow Milk's curled form, it mildly soothed the anxiousness still lingering in his mind. But he was here, still whole and breathing, and that was enough. It's all he asked for.

Against his collar, Shadow Milk mumbled, "Where's my cat?"

Damn it. "She's outside the door," Pure Vanilla sighed.

"Let her in. She doesn't like sleeping alone."

"She'll find a way to sit on my face!" Pure Vanilla whined, to which Shadow Milk rolled his eyes.

"No she won't. You act like she is trying to kill you."

She is, but Pure Vanilla knew he wouldn't win this debate. He leaned to the side and unlocked the door, pulling it slightly ajar to let Priscilla inside. Immediately she darted for Shadow Milk- going under the blanket and curling up in his lap. The beast gave her a scratch behind the ears, a shy smile on his face.

Even with his reservations, he knew Priscilla was good for Shadow Milk. She made him soft; his moods lighter; and he didn't have the heart to ruin that. Even if she did have it out of him.

Pure Vanilla pressed another kiss to his temple, resting his cheek against his hair, and tried to sleep. Somehow, the dream was a bit kinder this time.

-

Winter had finally settled in and with it the temperature of the cabin dropped. He knew it would happen eventually, but he hadn't known that the cabin was this poorly insulated! It wasn't even snowing yet, but the cold seemed to go right through him in the few minutes he steps outside.

It wouldn't have been so miserable if Pure Vanilla hadn't left with the cream sheep. Something about making sure they enjoyed the last few good days in the sun before spending most of their time inside the barn. A perfect excuse to not freeze in the icebox they called a home.

The only comfort he had was the poncho he finished keeping him warm and the chimney he kept poking at with the fire-poker. Pure Vanilla had brought in the firewood earlier that week and left behind a pack of matches to light the chimney with. It took an embarrassingly long time to get it working, but he did it and he felt oddly proud about it.

His sweet kitten was curled up next to him on her bed, snoring and fidgeting in her sleep. He had covered her with a blanket earlier and he set his hand over her belly. She hasn't gone out in sometime- despising the cold just as he does- and was more content napping next to the fire. A rabbit doll laid next to her- a recent favorite after destroying almost twenty birds in the span of a few weeks. At least the blue birds came back with enough time, and he hasn't seen her munching on any frail bird wings since.

The wood crackled in the fire place, sparks flying in the air before being extinguished. It was oddly pleasant watching the flames dance across the wood and turn the lumber into ash. There have only been a handful of times in which he sat in front of fire for its warmth, but the memory that comes to mind was when they had been delivered to Earthbread. They all had been unsure of themselves at the time as they hadn't been around other cookies before then, and were still trying to figure out what being an 'emissary' even meant.

Before they parted ways- uncertain when they'd see the others again- they had decided to spend their first night together in the forest of Beast-Yeast. Silent Salt had collected the wood and Burning Spice had lit the fire, and all five of them gathered around it. He remember Eternal Sugar's fright when something in the forest howled, and how Mystic Flour hummed a melody her witch once sang to her. When they had went to bed that night, cuddled together in each other's embrace, Shadow Milk remembered feeling content.

He hasn't seen them since the other ancients carried their limp bodies out of the battlefield, Souljams weakened and barely held together through sheer desperation to live. He wonders if they're alright, or doing better than he is. He wouldn't know, as even the letters Pure Vanilla gets from his friends make no mention of their condition. It's all up in the air, but a small part of him hopes they're still alive.

His melancholic brooding was interrupted by a knock on the front door- the sound so quiet and shy he thought he imagined it if not for Priscilla's ears perking up. It wasn't Pure Vanilla as he had not heard the telltale sound hooves approaching the cabin or the chiming of bells that most of them wore around their necks. Nor could it be someone from the Vanilla Kingdom- Pure Vanilla would have told him prior to leaving. All that left him was it being a pesky villager coming at one of the few times the ancient wasn't home to deal with them. Great.

Shadow Milk drops the fire-poker onto the floor and pushes himself off the ground with a sigh. He holds his palm out for Priscilla who quickly climbs up his arm to sit on his shoulder. She rubs her cheek against his neck, meowing quietly and he gives her a quick scratch behind the ear. He quickly makes his way to the front door and pulls it open without any grace.

He had been expecting someone old at the door coming to ask Pure Vanilla if he could heal the ache in their joins- it happened way too often in his opinion- but when he looks out, he finds no one. That is until he hears a squeak from below, and when he looks down he finds a little girl with her fist still raised up to knock, appearing quite surprised to see him.

It made sense. Kind of. He never went into the village, and he told Nilly to never mention when conversing with the villagers. Even when villagers came for aid and he didn't leave immediately he'd still keep at least his face obscured. It therefore made some sense for the little girl before him to be surprised to see him, or maybe she was expecting to see the kind and gentle expression of Pure Vanilla to greet her at the door, and not the sneer he currently wore.

She was very bundled up with layers of coats and scarves that it was hard to tell a cookie was even under all of that. Her hands were pulled back to her chest, and her gaze fell to heavy boots she wore, seemingly unsure of what she was meant to do. It was mildly annoying, but he would take it over the chatty villagers who kept trying to call Priscilla towards them even when she showed disinterest in their presence.

When she still didn't say anything after a few minutes with her feet shifting awkwardly against the wooden porch, Shadow Milk rolled his eyes. "Listen, kid, I don't have all day. What do you want so I can get you off my porch as soon as possible?"

The girl squeaked again, and looked at him with such wide eyes it reminded him vaguely of Candy Apple. She tried to say something, but her already quiet voice was muffled against the scarf and he couldn't understand a thing she said. With a groan, Shadow Milk threw the door wide open, the door hitting the wall with a loud bang and making the girl jump.

"Just get inside, kid. That way I'll have a chance of understanding you," He said, leaning against the doorway with a bored look.

The girl glanced between him and the interior of the cabin, fiddling with her mitten-covered hands with a weary look. Eventually she slowly stepped inside, keep her head down and straying close to the warm chimney. Shadow Milk shut the door firmly, shivering as a gust of cool air hit him. How Pure Vanilla managed to enjoy this weather he'll never understand.

He turns his focus back to the girl and finds that she pulled off her scarf and mittens, and was currently holding her hands towards the fire. Even with the mittens, the tips of her fingers appeared a bit blue. One quick look was all he needed to see that the mittens were old and not at all able to keep her hands warm for very long, and considering that it doesn't take long to reach their cabin then the mittens barely did anything.

Shadow Milk pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well? What did you need kid?"

It was like she forgot he was here as she jumped again. Jeez, were little cookies always this jumpy? He doesn't remember that- then again it has been quite sometime since he's been around children not used to adventuring, and his perspective may be a bit skewed. Still, this kid needed a better poker face.

Without the scarf in the way, he heard her mumble, "My mom came by a few days ago, and Mr. Pure Vanilla said he'd have a remedy for her in a few days? She sent me here to see if it was ready."

Was that what Pure Vanilla was working on? He recalls him crushing together herbs he had stored in their pantry months prior, going through his recipe book translated into braille as he did so. He had left it on the kitchen counter in a small brown pouch earlier that morning but hadn't told him what it was for before leaving with the flock as he was still sleeping. But he could make an educated guess.

"Yeah, give me a second," Shadow Milk sighed and went into the kitchen to retrieve the pouch.

He trusted the kid to not do anything dumb. She seemed like the type to prefer staying near the walls in a party, and the chances of her doing anything bad seemed too low to worry about. He found it quickly, and when he returned to the living room he found her staring up at the mantle above the chimney. Specifically, it was caterpillar plush he had initially made for Priscilla but she was disinterested in it.

Shadow Milk clicked his tongue, drawing her attention and holding the pouch out to her. "Found it."

Hesitantly she took in her hand, biting her lip as she cradled it towards her chest. "Thank you," she quietly mumbled, pinching the leather and running her fingers over the texture.

The beast hummed, and then looked back at the plush on the mantle. It had been there collecting dust for some time now. It wasn't his best piece as he messed up sewing the buttons in place, and the smile was too wide and made it look goofy. He didn't even like it. So when he plucked it off its spot from the mantle and shoved it in front of the girl's face, he did thoughtlessly.

"You were looking at with more interest than my cat ever did, so take it," Shadow Milk explained, surprising the little girl and leaving her stuttering.

"W-What? Really, I-I can have it?" She asked with barely concealed excitement. That's what was missing the entire time- child-like joy. Shadow Milk grinned at her, jostling the caterpillar and shaking it above her.

"Sure, kid. Not like I need it- I can make more whenever I want."

The caterpillar was deposited in her waiting arms, and she held it so tight he thought the head was going to pop off. She buried her face in the green fleece he used for the body, her smile stretching from ear to ear.

"T-Thank you, mister!" She exclaimed, absolutely beaming with joy.

Shadow Milk chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. "Alright, that's enough. You got what you wanted and more- so get out of here already."

The little girl happily exited the cabin with her face squished against the caterpillar, a slight kick in her step as she hurried home to presumable tell her mother. Shadow Milk watched her leave through the window, scratching Priscilla's chin with a thoughtful look. Admittedly, he didn't have any real reason to give the kid the plush. It didn't benefit him- didn't mean anything- but he did it anyway.

Has he really gone so soft?

When Pure Vanilla returns later that evening after putting the sheep in the barn, he finds Shadow Milk sewing together a small pair leather mittens with will insulating the inside. The fire had died down, and Priscilla was napping his lap as she normally does, and the caterpillar plush was missing. Interesting.

Pure Vanilla sat down next to him, leaning against his side as he watched him carefully bind the edges of leather together. His hands didn't shake as much anymore, and he was getting better adding tiny details to his projects as he once had. It was nice seeing him pick up the hobby again.

"Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?" Pure Vanilla asked, and Shadow Milk huffed.

"A brat came over asking if you made her mom's medicine yet."

Pure Vanilla's eyelashes fluttered as his expression shifted into embarrassment. "I forgot! I was going to leave a note telling you about her arrival, but the sheep were getting anxious and-!"

"I found the pouch and gave it to her no problem," Shadow Milk cut him off, tying off the last stitch and snapping the thread. "Also gave her that stupid-looking caterpillar since she kept eyeing it. So if you see a kid with that thing give her these mittens- the ones she has are ghastly and don't hold up in the cold at all."

The ancient leaned away from Shadow Milk and stared at him with a look of befuddlement. He looked genuinely confused at what Shadow Milk said- as if hat was the most outlandish thing he's ever said to him. When Shadow Milk noticed his look, he raised a curious brow.

"What? Something on my face?"

"No, no. It's just-… hm. I am, genuinely surprised you did all that and are making her mittens."

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes. "Not my fault they don't have good leather workers in that village. Kid will lose her hand if she doesn't get a new pair, and they she'll show up with her panicked mother and I'll have to deal with them in my house for hours! I'm just insuring that I keep my peace is all."

Pure Vanilla let out a fond huff and rested his cheek against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around Shadow Milk's waste, mindful in keeping his hands away from the sleeping kitten's reach.

"If that's what you believe, than alright blue bird. You don't have to justify being nice to me."

The beast muttered under his breath, something about him reading too much into his actions and projecting, but he still made sure he didn't miss a single stitch on the mittens. Pure Vanilla watched him contently with half-lidded eyes, soaking the remaining warmth of the chimney and the weight of his partner in his arms. It was a perfect way to end the day.

-

"You want to come with me?"

The snow that had kept them barricaded inside was finally starting after a sudden blizzard swept through the land and gifted them almost five feet of heavy snowfall. They had thankfully prepared before hand with their pantry filled to the point of over-capacity and threatening to spill out from the cabinets. Pure Vanilla had worried about his flock, but he left out enough food and water for them, and trusted in their ability to be self-sufficient long enough for him to return.

It was actually fairly cozy for them, as they spent most of week besides the fire place either reading in silence or playing a board game he bought from a vendor. No matter the game they played, they were both equally matched, as where Shadow Milk knew every technical skill and loop-hole possible, Pure Vanilla shined best in bending the rules and creatively coming up with strategies to beat his partner.

It had been some time since he's felt so competitive to win, but Shadow Milk's playful and teasing remarks drew that part of him out so easily.

If they weren't in the living room in front of the fire, than they would be in the kitchen. On the stove would be a steaming pot of milk with empty packets of coco with small marshmallows on the kitchen counter. A bit of cinnamon was added, and then Shadow Milk would pour them both a cup with a heavy helping of whipped cream added on top. The heat stung his tongue at first, but the sweetness made up for it and would leave behind droplets on his face. Shadow Milk would giggle at him for making a mess, and wipe off the remainder with his thumb.

And if not the kitchen, then they would still be in bed, buried under the warm covers. Shadow Milk's arms would wrap securely around his waist with his leg thrown over his hip, preventing him from leaving even if he wanted to, and he really didn't. Without any of the former pressures as ruler, he didn't have to get up to manage the court or file mountains of paperwork advisors were hired to handle. Instead, he could stay under the covers with his partner, and relax.

There was only a slight problem- in that Pure Vanilla liked being able to go outside.

He loved the Sun beaming in his face and the wind in his hair, and as much as he enjoyed being inside, he couldn't squash his excitement in getting to go outside again. So, when the blizzard pass and he could finally push open their front door, he was eager to get out. He just hadn't expected Shadow Milk to want to join him, too.

"Is it really that surprising?" Shadow Milk grumbled, wrapping a scarf around his neck and putting on a pair of mittens.

"Well, I imagined that you would prefer the comforts of our bed than the chill of the outside," Pure Vanilla explained as he pulled on his snow-boots.

"You should know by now that I'm just full of surprises!" Shadow Milk exclaimed, turning towards him with his arms crossed. "Maybe I'm also bored of this cabin and would enjoy the frigid air shredding my lungs, too! Ever thought of that?"

The ancient giggles as he reaches for the door-handle. "With your delicate sensibilities? It hadn't even crossed my mind."

Pure Vanilla muffles his laughter behind his hand at Shadow Milk's squawk of indignation, and pulls open the door. A blast of cool air greet them, and Pure Vanilla shivers as he zips his coat up higher and pulls the hood over his head. His first step into the snow sinks in easily, and with his staff he finds the stairs of their porch. He glances behind him to see how Shadow Milk is faring, and finds him casually floating over it all.

"Shadow Milk, how did you learn how to float?" Pure Vanilla asked as he trudged through the snow towards the forest.

"Why? Jealous?" Shadow Milk teased, floating just behind him with chin resting on his shoulder, a playful grin on his face despite the shiver running through his body.

"Nothing like that," Pure Vanilla replied, his breaths coming out as puffs. "I was simply curious, as there are not many cookies who can without the aid of specific devices or wings."

"Eh, its nothing interesting," the beast dismissed with a small twirl mid-air. "Have you seen the amount of stairs in my Spire? It would have taken me years to reach the top ever time I had to leave it to answer foolish questions from equally foolish cookies! Learning levitation was a matter of convenience, and then I wrote a book on it, and then cookies learned or they didn't. See? Boring!"

Pure Vanilla shook his head with a fond smile. "I don't think there is a single boring thing about you, dear."

They continued their walk through the forest in relative silence with only the sound of snow crunching under his footsteps. Peering through his staff, he watched as the few remaining birds perch underneath snow-covered branches as they out their chests and shook snow off their feathers. They chirped as they passed by, and Pure Vanilla gave them a small wave.

Behind him, Shadow Milk groaned.

"Is this really all we're going to be doing? Freezing our dough while saying 'hi' to a few birds?"

"Were you hoping for something more exciting? There is not much to be done with all this snow remaining, so please excuse the lack of entertainment," Pure Vanilla hummed, continuing his slow measured pace without faltering.

Shadow Milk fell quiet, and when he didn't say anything for a few more minutes did Pure Vanilla come to a halt. He pulled his hood down to try to hear him following behind, but it was if he disappeared all of a sudden. He turns around, his name on the tip of his tongue, when something cold hits him in on the cheek.

His head whips to the side, a sharp gasp escaping him as he clings to his staff to stop himself from falling over. He touches his cheek and shivers as he meets snow. Then, he hears maniacal giggling coming from in front of him, and he looks up with wide eyes to see Shadow Milk bent at the waist with his arms holding his stomach, laughing.

"Oh, Nilly!" He cheered, pointing at him with tears on his lashes. "The look on your face is priceless! Oh, you look so dumb right now, ha!"

The beast's laughter grew and grew until he fell back onto the snow, cackling at his own tricks and kicking up his legs. His joy was short-lived, however, as he looked up to see Pure Vanilla bending down and scooping up a handful of snow. Shadow Milk's grin slowly fell into a look of dread as the ancient packed the snow in with a kind smile on his face.

Shadow Milk sprung up from the ground when Pure Vanilla began to approach with a nervous laugh, holding his hands up in a poor attempt to placate.

"Wait wait wait-" Shadow Milk stammered, almost tripping over his own boots as he backed away from the ancient. "It was just a joke, Nilly! You don't have to retaliate! It's over now, no more snow in my hands! You can drop it now!"

Pure Vanilla does not. Instead, the eye of his orchid tracks over move he makes as he continues to advance. He can see Shadow Milk's panicked expression clearly, eyes snapping side to side as he thought of a plan. When nothing came to mind, Shadow Milk nervously grinned.

"Maybe we can call a truce...?"

Pure Vanilla giggled, winding up his shot and replied with a playful tone, "I thought we were having fun?"

What ensued was a chaotic mess of flailing limbs and screams of sheer panic.

The moment the snowball left Pure Vanilla's hand Shadow Milk twisted his body out of the line of fire and just barely dodged the snowball that had been aimed at his head. It collided into the ground where he had just been, and without a moment to spare Shadow Milk shot up from the ground and booked it back to the cabin, shouting over his shoulder, "YOU'RE CRAZY!"

Pure Vanilla chuckles, watching him flee through his staff. He counts to give in his head, stretching his back and hearing a small pop, before chasing after the beast. He hears Shadow Milk screaming up ahead, cursing him as if he was the one to start this.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Shadow Milk screamed, almost tripping and slamming into the ground before hastily correcting himself.

From behind, Pure Vanilla's joyous laugh rang through the forest, his cheeks painted a faint red as he followed close behind. "What's the matter? I thought you wanted to have fun?"

"NOT LIKE THIS YOU- ACK-" Shadow Milk's yelling is cut off when his boot sinks deep into the snow and he falls face-first into the snow.

Slowly down his pace, Pure Vanilla reached Shadow Milk's prone body while muffling his laughter behind his sleeve. He crouched down with his hands over his knees, his head tilted to the side with a smile.

"Are you alright dear? That was quite the fall- would you like some help?"

The beast's mitten-covered hands flexed against the snow as he laid there. Whatever response he gave was muffled in the snow, and Pure Vanilla leaned his head down further.

"Hmm? Did you say something?" He teased, giggling as Shadow Milk lifted his head from the ground, a sneer on his lips.

"I hate you," Shadow Milk hissed, his eyes narrowed into a glare with his face flushed from the cold. If he meant to appear frightening, then he failed, as he looked more like a disheveled kitten than a murderous beast.

Pure Vanilla covers his mouth as his shoulders shake from how he tries to prevent his laughter from slipping out. But it builds in his chest, and it bubbles over to spill past his lips as he laughs at the disgruntled look on his face. Shadow Milk's eyes widen, his brow twitching in annoyance as the ancient's frame shakes from the intensity of his laughter.

Even when Shadow Milk knocks him off balanced with a firm shove to his shoulders, or when he pins him down against the snow and shakes him with his jacket clenched in his hands, Pure Vanilla keeps laughing. The beast curses him and pushed the side of his face into the snow.

"Enough out of you!" Shadow Milk growled. "It's not funny!"

"I beg to differ!" Pure Vanilla claimed, lightly grabbing his wrists and pulling them off his face. "I once recall you laughing hysterically when I tripped over the stones in the garden."

"That," Shadow Milk hissed," is because you looked utterly stupid. Are you implying I looked just as foolish?"

Pure Vanilla batted his lashes, a playful smile on his lips. He lifted one of Shadow Milk's wrists up to his lips and pressed a gently kiss where his heartbeat. Then, in a lighthearted voice, he said, "Well... if you are the one saying it-"

Shadow Milk shoved his face back into the snow, muffling his protests as the ancient squirmed under him. Even with the look of disgust on his face, his cheeks still burned up the tip of his ears.

"Shut up and die," he huffed, lacking any of the bite those words would have once contained, his grip still loose enough for the ancient to escape if he so chose to.

He wouldn't. He was right where he wanted to be, after all.

-

When Spring finally comes, it arrives quietly.

The Sun is no longer hidden behind the clouds, and the wind no longer bites at their exposed dough. The path outside is no longer buried under layers of snow, and the flowers once again unravel their petals to greet them as friends. The days grow longer, and with it comes the desire to bask underneath the light before it dips beneath the West horizon.

As it was routine, Pure Vanilla woke up first with the cat sleeping on his chest. Carefully does he lift her off and deposits her next to his partner in order to get dressed in the same robes he always wore. Without the embellishments of his Souljam and golden accents, he looks like a normal cookie again. Smoothing out the creases, he hears Shadow Milk yawn behind him, and smiles.

"I was thinking of taking the flock to the field today," he said, grabbing his staff near their bedside and tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear. "Would you like to join me?"

Through his staff, he sees Shadow Milk rubs his eyes with the back of his hand with a tired sigh. His other hand scratches behind Priscilla's ears, claws always careful to never cause harm. When he looks back at him, his expression unreadable, he says, "Sure."

Pure Vanilla leaves him in the bedroom to change as he enters their kitchen to pack for the day. Usually whenever he went out, he liked to spend almost the entire day basking under the sunlight and allowing his sheep to graze as they pleased. They needed enough rations to last that time, though given Shadow Milk's tendency to complain, it was unlikely they'll be out for very long.

As he finishes packing his satchel, Shadow Milk comes out of their bedroom dressed with his dark-blue poncho slightly skewed to the side with Priscilla laid across his shoulders. His hair, which had grown past his shoulders, glowed faintly with dead stars and with calmly shut eyes. He hasn't seen them open once since they reappeared, but Shadow Milk doesn't seem to mind.

The beast slouched into a chair at their kitchen table, his gaze drifting up towards the ceiling with a strange look in his eyes. His eyes were squinted, his lip downturn, as if whatever he was thinking disturb him to the point he couldn't even mask it. He hasn't looked like that for some time now.

"Is there something wrong?" Pure Vanilla asked as he pulled the strap over his shoulder. He watched as Shadow Milk tilted his head towards him, gaze still pinned on the ceiling above.

"Just peachy," Shadow Milk mumbled, crossing one leg over the other.

"Are you sure? You don't have to come with me if you don't want to."

Only then did Shadow Milk look at him, his eyes softening a fraction. "I do," he said, eyes flicking towards the back exit. "Go get the sheep. I'll meet you out front."

His tone left no room for discussion, and when Pure Vanilla opened his mouth to argue, Shadow Milk cut him off.

"I'm fine, Pure Vanilla. Go to the flock, and I'll see you outside."

He says it so calmly, almost passively, that it stirs something similar to worry in his stomach. Even so, with his hand so tightly clenched around his staff that it leaves the impression of the wooden grooves in his palm, Pure Vanilla trusts him. He quickly presses a kiss to Shadow Milk's temple and a quick pet to Priscilla's back before exiting through the back door.

The sheep are already waiting for him as he opens the barn doors, bleating and nuzzling their snouts against his thigh and stomach in eager greetings. He tries to pet every single one of them, but he is quickly overwhelmed by them.

He giggles as he gently pushes them away, opening the doors wider to let them out. "Come now," he encourages, counting them all to ensure they were all accounted for. "It's a beautiful day outside for a stroll."

Guiding the flock around the cabin, he occasionally gently tapped the stragglers on their behinds, making sure none were left behind. Usually it was the younger members, still trying to keep pace with the rest of them. It was charming.

Just as Shadow Milk had said, he stands at the base of the stairs on their cabin with his arms crossed over his chest. Already he looks displeased with the Sun shining down on him, even more so when he spots the flock.

"Witches, I can smell them even from the barn," Shadow Milk murmured, ignoring the few that bumped against him with their snouts.

"Don't be mean- they can't help it," Pure Vanilla says, coming to stand at Shadow Milk's side. "If you really disliked them, you wouldn't be willing to spending the day with them, would you?"

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes. "Yeah, just like how I tolerate sharing the same bed with you even with all your clingy-ness."

The ancient chuckled and wrapped an arm around one of Shadow Milk's, pulling him along as they travel down the dirt path in front of them.

The flock follows behind, the bell-collars around their necks chiming with every step they took. The trees provided cover from the morning Sun with the birds singing from the branches and the squirrels running to and fro. The remaining leaves on the ground crunched under their feet, and they remained quiet the entire walk to the field.

It was more of mound with a single tree growing at the top, its trunk bent from the many storms it has withstood and providing the perfect spot for them to sit. The flock divides into small groups to roam the land, except one old sheep that follows the pair to the tree.

Backs pressed against the bark with their shoulders brushing together, they sit at the base of the tree with their fingers weaved together. Daffodil settles by Pure Vanilla's side with a huff, resting their head on his lap and quickly falling into a deep slumber. His hand settles over their woolly head, a fond smile on his face.

He hears a quiet meow next to him, and looks to see Priscilla crawling down from Shadow Milk's shoulders. She ignores him in favor of approaching the sleeping sheep and sniffing them. Whatever conclusion she came to results in her licking Daffodil's snout and climbing on their back. She pats down a spot and lays down in a ball, content to nap as well.

Directing his attention to the field, he watches as the cream sheep exploring the field to their heart's desire. Not much had changed since they last came, but the field had bloomed with newly emerged flowers that painted the field in a plethora of colors. He smiles softly, and gives the hand in his own a light squeeze.

"It's a good day outside, isn't it?"

Next to him, Shadow Milk hummed. His thumb ran over his knuckles, pressing against the moles littering the back of his hand. He looked peaceful.

"It's not so bad," the beast replied, letting his head fall to rest against his shoulder.

Pure Vanilla rests his cheek against his head, his eyes fluttering and fighting to stay awake. His breathing evened out, and for a moment he feels himself beginning to drift into unconsciousness when he hears Shadow Milk's voice break through the silence.

"Hey, Pure Vanilla?" The beast quietly asks, almost sounding hesitant as he does so.

"Hmm?" Pure Vanilla hums, his eyes half-lidded as he looks towards the beast.

Shadow Milk's mouth opens, and then closes- the words failing to come to him. He his hand squeezes around his own, his grip too tight and making him wince. He doesn't look at him, his head turned too far to the side to see the conflicted look on his face.

"I..." Shadow Milk began, his voice trailing off into a whisper.

"Yes?" Pure Vanilla questions, his tone gentle and so damningly patient.

Shadow Milk tenses for a moment, his body pulled taut, before he turns his head around. He still couldn't look him in the eye, but Pure Vanilla saw the worry behind his eyes, the fear buried under it.

"I think... I think I'm ready to leave now."

He says it so quietly Pure Vanilla wasn't sure he heard him correctly. But he does, and his eyes soften. He pulls his hand out of Shadow Milk's hold, a look of panic momentarily crossing the beast's face before calming down once his arm wrap around his shoulders. Pure Vanilla pulls Shadow Milk closer till their thighs touched, the slight tremble of Shadow Milk's body settling down.

Nuzzling his face into his hair, Pure Vanilla says, "When would you like to go?"

Shadow Milk shags against him, hands coming up to keep his arm over his shoulder, not wanting to lose a second of contact. "Preferably soon," he sighs, his heart pounding against his chest.

The ancient nods his head, gaze drifting back to the flock in front of them. "It will take me a few days to get the cart ready. Enough time to pack, don't you think?"

"You'll really come with me?" He questions, nails digging into his arms.

"I promised, hadn't I? We're together now, forever and always," Pure Vanilla affirms, and fells the tension slowly melt out from the beast's body.

Shadow Milk brought his legs up to his chest and curled into Pure Vanilla's side. He felt his hand run through his hair, the feeling soothing to the anxious pit that was slowly uncurling from his stomach.

He stared across the field, watching as the cream sheep frolic unburdened and free; listened to the birds sing their songs from the trees; felt the grass cradle his aching body; and smelt the sweet scent of vanilla his partner always seemed to emit.

It didn't feel so bad being outside, Shadow Milk thought as allowed himself to unwind and relax in his partner's hold. The heaviness that once hung over his mind was beginning to retreat. It would not disappear immediately he knew, but it felt like a start.

Part of him wanted to retract his statement. To tell Pure Vanilla he was joking, that actually he would love to stay in the cold comfort of their cabin and cling to whatever piece of himself still remained tethered to that place. But if he could be honest for just a moment; allowing himself this one chance for vulnerability; he knew he couldn't stay in that cabin forever. Another cage to block himself from ever facing reality- from ever being present.

It would be another cold, desolate sanctuary, and he's had enough of those for one life-time.

Maybe he'll never be the same cookie he was before- no longer a wielder of infinite magic, or the ability to bend reality to his will- but perhaps he didn't need all that to be happy. Here, in this field, with Pure Vanilla at his side with his kitten sleeping blissfully on top of an old cream sheep, he was happy.

Maybe that was enough.