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Summary
Shadow Milk felt warm tears fall down his face, yet he felt nothing. He hadn’t felt anything for so long. Maybe, sometimes he longed for any emotion to crawl out of his body, to thrash and fight, to cry and claw and bite, but nothing ever came. Shadow Milk was a well that had run dry long ago and all that was left was dust and dirt where water once flowed.
Or
What if Shadow Milk lost and plunged into a depressive state? What if all he loved was lost and all that remained was a twisted love as Pure Vanilla fought to understand what remained in this stripped and raw version of Shadow Milk? What would it take for Shadow Milk to be free once more?
