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Menthol Cookie had lost Seltzer Cookie.
They originally arrived in this place thinking nothing much of it... Platter City? What- interesting etymology, perhaps.
But at this point, what did they have to loose? They had already lost their faith. And their sanity.
Well Menthol isn't insane but still. Maybe.
And yet this city is a far, FAR cry over what he's used to, whether it was the outskirts of the cathedral of what he had read in his teachings. It's so... urbanized. And futuristic, that his head somehow both can't keep up but ended up intrigued. Madeleine Cookie, the prisoner during the day of the incident, told them about this place and now Seltzer believed to come here as they needed to "build up morale"... or something.
Heck, he even looked out of place in the city with his... pastoral attire.
Only that, he had noticed that... Everyone here resorted to violence.
A cookie who apparently had bombs in her hands (and hair) had blown up a fellow cookie that had strangely curly pigtails. A buff, fruit looking cookie manning a stand only to be disappointed that it broke in a matter of seconds because a bomb came and exploded it. A screen that occasionally pops up with a cookie with a cat headset (is she even a cookie?), apparently named "DJ Miya" catching the attention of the whole city with apparently being in charge of the music that is blasted.
How in the witches name are they able to get THAT hurt and get revived in a manner of SECONDS?
He doesn't know if the cookies in this place needed salvation or just needed to seek help.
On the middle lies a huge fountain. Again, futuristic as always. Since really, he had lost his only companion going here, realistically this is a place where he could be seen more so he could be spotted by her.
"Oh," he spoke out loud for a moment. But that means he's going to have attention.
He himself had been used to combat, sure, his censer magic exists, wowie, yet he never really initiated them. He did denounce the cookies with white masks during his time in the Order, stating that attacking the Cremé Republic was bad but he couldn't really disagree with the High Forkbearer.
After a moment of spectating the area for a little, he decided this was not a good spot.
Menthol found himself near a road barrier blocked by a sign.
Area closed for a private Lactose Family event. No outside visitors allowed.
"They host parties in this place..." he spoke out loud.
Yes. No shit, Menthol. This place is a whole fucking genocidal disco.
Beside the barrier was a bench next to a vending machine... That sells milk. How original.
Since there's no other place to sit down before being caught, he just sat there. The screen in the fountain occasionally with DJ Miya popping announcements left and right, and Seltzer Cookie still nowhere to be seen.
It was when he decided the vending machine beside the bench was very fascinating and decided to stare at it, he found someone coming out of the barrier. And stared at him for a moment.
That cookie, hair with a short cut yet neat colored black and yellow, a what seemed to be formal attire, and had glasses that were more square than his. He got out of that barrier fixing his gloves when he caught attention of Menthol.
Menthol immediately stood up and started to speak. "Excuse me..? Am I not-"
"You don't belong here," that other cookie simply said, finishing the strap on his gloves.
Menthol blinked once. "Yes, I do not."
Then there comes that really awkward silence nobody had anticipated despite the background noise being all music and screaming. That was then Menthol realized that, why are their voices weirdly similar?
And then without prior notice-
That cookie charged at Menthol with his fist, as if gravity switched its direction back to him.
Menthol, startled, instantly picked up his censer and swung it for a moment, magic finally pulsating and coming out and exploding it to the other cookie's dough, which in turn made him slip up and stop charging.
"Great... a bomber," the cookie murmured.
The priest questioned genuinely, "Pardon?"
And then they fought.
Because the author doesn't know how to write fight scenes.
Menthol had came to learn the name of this cookie -- only that he never heard it well due to the intense fighting.
He didn't mean to pry, he didn't even ask his name, he just heard him murmuring to himself his name thinking out loud. Like Menthol does when he messes up a speech.
They had been brawling for a while now, the light chilling scent of menthol and the ground just outside of the Lactose mansion now broken, though the cookie was notably trying his best not to accidentally explode the mansion or something. Menthol clicked that he was probably like a security guard or something.
But at the same time, Menthol had... fun.
He didn't get why -- just that fighting like this felt freer than he thought it would.
That was him in the middle of his thoughts until he noticed, the cookie finally caught him off guard.
He punched Menthol's chain out of his hand.
Time felt like it paused in realization. There he was, armless.
"Got you," the cookie taunted.
Menthol tried to step forward, towards the chain of his censer to pick it up again, his robes making it slower than it should have.
But it was far too late.
A hand slammed into his shoulder, driving him back on the brick wall.
The censer, originally just feet away, slipped from his grip, clattering uselessly against the floor, its glow dimming as if offended by neglect.
He pressed in close, one forearm braced against the wall beside Menthol's head, the other gripping his collar.
Close enough that the lingering incense clung to his skin.
Close enough to feel the priest’s breath, uneven now.
Cose enough to feel that his eyes...
hold on, WHAT IS THIS.
"As a priest, you have a good moveset," he commented with a slight teasing undertone underneath that stoic voice while Menthol was pinned under his gaze.
Menthol was stunned for a moment before slowly chuckling. "I suppose there are Godly Creators watching over," he retorted.
"Still faithful under dire circumstances," the other responded. "I like you."
"I-"
"MENTHOL COOKIE!!!"
A familiar voice overheard came and approached them two.
The cookie finally released Menthol from his grip, dropping him to the floor. Menthol adjusted his glasses to see a Seltzer Cookie coming in and ultimately asking him questions.
"Oh gosh- what happened to this place?!"
"Are you okay?"
"Who's THAT?!"
She pointed to the cookie that was once there-
Only to find that the cookie disappeared.
Seltzer was grabbing Menthol's censer on the ground a distance away. While she sid that while constantly questioning Menthol AND speaking about her experiences in the city so far, Menthol found out the cookie had slipped something into his pocket.
A calling card.
Name: Camembert Cookie
Occupation: Enforcer of the Lactose Mansion
Number: *************
"What...?" he murmured to himself.