Work Text:
Shadow Milk hated everything.
His new home was absolutely nothing like the Spire. Instead of darkness and illusions and cards and everything he took pleasure in, this new…castle was more like a display room for the golden glory of his so-called other half, Pure Vanilla. Witches, Pure Vanilla was everything the beast despised - gentle, benevolent, kind, endlessly kind - so living in a castle, in a little room that reflected this person exactly was like a bright, living nightmare.
The nightmare had started when Pure Vanilla, being the insufferable person he was, decided to bring (more like drag) Shadow Milk into his home. Give him a second chance. Well, he wanted to fall with dignity, with a burning vengeance, not be coddled in the Vanilla Kingdom! As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he was screwed as soon as he saw Pure Vanilla’s…blinding transformation, Soul Jam finally reaching its glorious perfection, embracing both truth and deceit with open arms.
Yes, the transformation, Shadow Milk thought to himself. The…awakening…had not only given the ancient some longer hair and fancier gold-stitched robes, but also gifted him with a pair of wings. They were almost perfectly white, as tall as his whole body, and when outstretched, spanned twice the size of his lifted arm. Although they usually stayed firmly behind his back, never flailing or flapping, there always seemed to be a trail of feathers wherever he walked, possibly as a result of an abysmal lack of preening. It had started to annoy Shadow Milk, so much that, after some negotiations, and in exchange for a game of chess (he always won, so it would be fun for him) he agreed to be the one to preen them tonight. He was, to say the least, fed up with finding feathers caught in his hair and clothes every time the other walked past.
The moon had risen gracefully, one of the few things Shadow Milk could just watch without wanting to turn it into a rabbit, or some other equally stupid thing. He can’t believed he had signed up to do this. Preen the benevolent moron’s wings? He could have the ancient on strings right now, bending him to his own will-
Oh. He remembered the Soul Jam of deceit had been significantly weakened since his defeat.
He slumped down heavily onto his bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. Instinctively he let out a low growl as he saw the door open, but he stifled it when Pure Vanilla entered, oblivious.
“Evening!” Pure Vanilla greeted enthusiastically, quite obviously overcompensating for being so tired and scruffy after a long day. His hair, usually falling over his back in pristine waves, was now a knotted nest of spun gold, and his robes were a little crinkled, a stark contrast to the normally flawless, ironed fabric.
Shadow Milk’s eyes drifted to the elephant in the room: Pure Vanilla’s wings. And just as he expected after looking at the state of him, they were a tad disheveled, loose feathers sticking out in all directions. “I suppose it’s time, huh, Nilly?” He responded, using the nickname in a more condescending manner than anything else in an attempt to mask the mild discomfort he was starting to feel.
“Oh!” Pure Vanilla let out a breathy chuckle, not paying any attention to the beast’s tone. “I guess it is,” he replied, sitting down next to Shadow Milk, keeping a respectable distance.
With a gentle huff, Shadow Milk turned, shuffling on the spot to face Pure Vanilla, grabbing the other by his shoulders and roughly twisting him to get a better view of his wings, which he didn’t seem to mind at all, moving his back and shoulders to make it easier. “Look,” the beast said, fingers already running through the ancient’s feathers. “I’m not a bird, I don’t have wings like you, so my skills aren’t gonna be great. All I’m tryin’ to do is get these damn loose feathers outta there so I don’t end up finding them in my bedsheets tomorrow morning, despite you never even going in here!” His voice rose about an octave at the last few words, making it clear that was a very real scenario, that had probably happened multiple times before. But despite all the complaining, he continued, ruffling the feathers then straightening them again, claws gently scratching between them, removing any loose ones onto the floor.
“Aren’t these irritating?” Shadow Milk asked. “I mean, imagine having these to fly! I’ve always been able to float around, just like that, without those bulky things. I’m sittin’ here, trying to imagine not being able to fly-” he scoffed. “-and then, when I finally can, having to lug two extra limbs around!” He laughed, a loud, raspy sound. “Aren’t they just an inconvenience anyway? For all this talk about feeling free after the whole ordeal of getting them, you barely even use them!”
Pure Vanilla’s smile didn’t falter. Instead, he gently flexed his wings, which made Shadow Milk let out a whine of protest as his fingers were still imbedded in the feathers. “Well, I personally think it’s rather freeing. Not physically, necessarily, but rather…magically, I guess.” He paused. “It’s like finally, after holding the Soul Jam for so long, I’ve finally found its…true purpose.”
Not caring too much about the preening anymore, he turned to face the beast, that beautiful smile still not wiped off his face. “I like the change,” he continued. “Makes me feel a little lighter.”
“Hey, hey!” Shadow Milk scolded, flailing to reach the other’s wings. “I’m not doooone! Your feathers are still all over my bedsheets!”
“Maybe one day, you’ll grow your own wings too.”
Shadow Milk froze, blinked, then growled. “Curse you!” He shouted, breaking the silence after it had started to make him uncomfortable. “You really think, I, Fount of Knowledge, MASTER OF DECIET, needs something as PATHETIC as-”
A quiet chuckle, a single, fleeting finger on Shadow Milk’s painted lips that stunned him into silence. The moment when Pure Vanilla had come up with an idea was blatantly obvious, the hint of joy he always carried in his eyes had escalated to a flame. “Shh…” hushed Pure Vanilla with all the softness of a lover, something which they weren’t, and never would be, ever. “It’s magical, I promise.”
“What’re you talkin’ about? Come on, use your big words, not your poetry.”
“I want to show you something.”
Sceptical, Shadow Milk subconsciously leaned back a little, away from the other, face still contorted with the remainder of his previous snarling aggression. “Is this some kind of plot to finally win me over as your friend?” He deadpanned. “‘Cause it ain’t working so far.”
“No, no.” The ancient averted his eyes, however, the faintest impish smirk on his face. “Why would you think that?”
Shadow Milk scoffed loudly. “Fine, just get it over with, okay?”
.
A scream of both terror and delight pierced the air as two figures, that could easily be mistaken for one united silhouette, soared through the night sky. As much as he would hate to admit it, the cold air was a shock to Shadow Milk’s skin, the chill easily felt underneath his thin, skin-tight suit. He could back out of this so easily, whenever he wanted. He could just shapeshift into a bird, escape Pure Vanilla’s arms, and fly back into his room where he wouldn’t have to deal with all this.
But something about flying through the sky, in the hold of another, was so incredibly exhilarating.
“Put me down!” He demanded, trying to mask any hint of joy in his expression and mannerisms. “PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT, YOU FOOL!” He flailed, but not enough to be dropped, mainly just tugging at the other’s robes so it seemed more like a protest than it actually was.
Pure Vanilla, undeterred yet again, just slowed his ascent slightly. “You’re enjoying it, aren’t you?” He teased, before piercing the clouds. “Well, I know I am.”
He paused for a moment in the air, but to Shadow Milk, it felt like a lifetime. Time seemed to slow down to a snail’s pace, and the stars, once subtle reminders of a previous life, now felt like a million kisses from the vast, empty space. Pure Vanilla’s wings were the warmest, softest blanket he’d ever felt. He gasped quietly, the quietest sound he’d made all night, and he clutched the ancient’s robes with shaking hands.
The descent only felt like a second, as Shadow Milk was still reeling. Before his body could catch up with him, he was on Pure Vanilla’s balcony again, legs shaking with adrenaline, having to hold onto the railing with a sweaty, white-knuckled grip to keep himself steady.
“I’m gonna be sick,” he complained, an overdramatic exaggeration. He wasn’t, he knew that, but something inside him still itched to complain even after having the most confusingly beautiful trip he’d experienced in long time. He pushed himself further upright against the railing, the slouch in his posture disappearing shakily.
Pure Vanilla saw through this, but didn’t mention anything. He simply stood next to the beast placed a hand on the small of his back. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”
“It was,” Shadow Milk retorted a little too quickly, too dazed and delighted for his words to have much bite anymore. He lifted his head to look into the ancient’s half-blind, half-lidded eyes.
He’d never let him live this one down.